


people will say we're in love

by AKAWWJJD



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: (mostly) canon through s4, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/F, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Identity Reveal, Lena Luthor Knows Kara Danvers Is Supergirl, Slow Burn, That's right, The Trifecta, like I said it's all about that yearning, major character death but it's temporary (and not until much later), more tropes in this thing than words, our girls need to work some stuff out, really just an excuse to revisit some stuff, revel in the sheer obliviousness and the yearning, season five? never heard of her, these two idiots fall in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-03
Updated: 2020-09-29
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:47:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 157,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22991221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AKAWWJJD/pseuds/AKAWWJJD
Summary: It isn’t The Wizard of Oz that pierces through whatever walls Kara has placed around her heart, nor is it Singing In The Rain, or even West Side Story. No, it’s Oklahoma! that blindsides her, leaves her sobbing into her throw pillow until her voice disappears and she’s too exhausted to move to her bed.She can’t figure out why a story set in the time of farmhands and cowboys could make her think of Lena in any way until she rewatches it.And oh. Oh, she finally gets it now.Kara hears the words being sung and is reminded of the fact that after everything, Lena still doesn’t have the full story.Lena had accused her of having ulterior motives, of wanting to be close to her out of selfishness, of being too cowardly to ever take a real leap of faith. She isn’t all that wrong. Kara’s alter ego may be out in the open now for Lena to see, but that doesn’t mean Kara isn’t still hiding behind some lies.The fact that she’s fallen in love with Lena Luthor accidentally along the way is the only secret she’s got left.AKA, Kara watches an old movie, realizes what's been in front of her this whole time, and somehow, finds her way back to where her heart has made its home.
Relationships: Kara Danvers/Lena Luthor
Comments: 99
Kudos: 574





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> for anyone who happens to happen upon this and give it a go, I hope you enjoy! this is all new for me, but I've spent so long reading such breathtaking, beautiful pieces about these two that I found the courage (or maybe the stupidity) to write my own. thanks, and please forgive the liberal use of clichés and trope (yes, this is a song fic, kinda). and don't worry-- I haven't seen Oklahoma! either, just love the song.

In the weeks after everything— after Kara finds out that things are not okay, that Lena knew about all of the lies long before Kara worked up the nerve to tell her, after she says she never wants to see Kara again, after Lena sells Catco and resigns from her advisory position at the DEO and doesn’t respond to Kara’s texts or voicemails— Kara finds herself watching movies by herself again. 

(Rao, she was so naïve. So desperate for things to work out that she’d willfully ignored what was right in front of her. She’d really thought that things were going to turn out okay. Really believed that she’d somehow managed to not break Lena’s heart, hadn’t torn apart what they had irreparably. Lena had acted fine. Normal. Until she didn’t, and Kara realized that those smiles that didn’t quite reach her eyes hid the worst kind of hurt imaginable. And what really killed was that she was the one who had caused it, to the one person she’d sworn to never hurt.)

At first she tries not to. Curling up on the couch with a blanket and some popcorn had become something intrinsically linked with her best friend these past few years. Not having that familiar weight beside her on the couch cushions (or the press of Lena’s shoulder against her own, or the quiet, private laughs that she huffed right into the shell of Kara’s ear, or all the other tiny details that Kara didn’t know she needed until they were gone) was unbearable at first.

So, she does other things instead. Supergirl becomes more active than she’s ever been before, and impossibly, Kara Danvers does too. She wears the cape and she puts out fires, and drops off gang leaders right into the laps of the police, and triple-checks every tree for cats. Catco reporter Kara Danvers graciously accepts her Pulitzer Prize, continues her weekly column on the Aliens of National City, and still reads over Nia’s articles, giving the younger girl a nudge in the right direction when needed. She lets her coworkers interview LCorp’s CEO about new projects and follow up on press releases and avoids James afterwards, knowing that he will have a far too gentle look in his eye for her to stomach. Somehow, it feels like Kara creates more hours in a day for herself, even though it’s really just a way to never stop moving, to keep herself from going home and sitting still long enough to feel the weight of what happened press terribly into her ribs. It’s better to write articles so fast that her keyboard breaks, and fight rogues until she stumbles home with shaking knees about to give out.

Anything is better than being alone with her thoughts.

(And yes, she pays a visit once or twice to the alien dive bar, just to see what it’s like, drowning your guilt in rum smuggled in from three galaxies over. Kara stops before it gets too far every time. She’s seen what this behavior can lead to, can see it in Alex, and Lena, and knows that Supergirl can’t afford to cope like this. Kara hates not being in control, doesn’t want to think about Red Kryptonite ever again. She doesn’t drink away into the night because she doesn’t know how she’ll act without inhibitions, not with Lena and their estrangement on the playing field.)

But there are nights where Kara has no other choice but to go home. Alex tells her to. She figures out how little sleep Kara’s gotten by the way she wraps her cape around herself as she walks, or how her eyes have been drifting shut during debriefings more often than not, and tells Kara to take the rest of the day off. Kara listens. She goes home and showers, and orders delivery, and is asleep before she gets halfway through her pizza. She knows it’s dangerous for her to live this way, knows that she’s putting her safety and the city’s security at risk, but she doesn’t mind. Kara prefers those nights—the kind where she’s worked herself into such exhaustion that she doesn’t dream, doesn’t have nightmares, doesn’t lay awake and think of everything she’s done wrong. 

And even on those other nights— the ones where energy still thrums through her body, when the police scanner is quiet and all of the friends she has left are busy, when Kara is all alone— she finds new things to distract herself with. Baking is… disastrous. Kara is almost forced to quarantine her kitchen after a particularly horrific batch of brownies comes out of her oven, looking so toxic that even she couldn’t survive eating them. Then comes puzzles, Sudoku, and weekend crosswords. Kara tries to learn yo-yo tricks for a few hours, until she winds it up too hard and the string breaks, wedging the toy in a nearby wall. The look on Alex’s face when she walks in and sees the yo-yo sticking out of the plaster is almost enough to wipe any thought of her ex- best friend from rising to the surface.

Almost.

Kara turns to reading, next.  She puts the hobbies away, trades them for the books she had wanted to read when she first arrived on Earth but never did because she was too busy learning to exist in an alien world, too consumed with finding a way to not break Alex’s ribs when she hugged her.

Books are supposed to be an escape from the real world, and for a while, they are. There are no pirates or cowboys in National City, no matter how badly Kara secretly wants there to be, and it’s familiar, making herself at home in more worlds completely foreign to her. But Lena sneaks into these fantasies as if she were there all along, and Kara doesn’t find she’s all that surprised, because Lena’s always had a knack for making herself known in her thoughts.. 

She thinks of Lena when she reads about lonely Jay Gatsby in his lavish, ghostly mansion, and Patroclus and his steady devotion to Achilles, and quiet, small Matilda with all of her genius and kindness in a house where her family resented her for it, where they wanted her to be as cruel and as despicable as the rest of them. Gatsby dies all alone, his grand illusions of love overcoming all else washed away in that wretched pool. Achilles doesn’t make it in time; Patroclus dies in his hero’s arms, and Kara just barely stops herself from flying to the one person she’d promised she would always protect.

It’s the first time she’s cried since the night Lena told her exactly what she thought of her, and the sadness presses soothingly against the places of her heart Kara had been trying to ignore.

Listening to music is more of the same, except now Kara knows what she’s been looking for. She finds herself seeking out the songs that bring her to tears, craving those feelings instead of the monotony she’s forced herself into. Music is maddeningly close to getting Kara to the kind of emotional place that she’s only just now realizing she needs. 

(She can listen to haunting strains of violins or a distant strum of the guitar and relax into the depths of her memory, can hear the sadness in some person’s lonely melody, and think of Lena. Thinks of Lena’s face that night when the floor was swept out from underneath them, how it was pitched against the bluest of shadows. She listens and sees the tremble in Lena’s hands and lips, and remembers the way Lena sobbed and screamed and turned resolutely away. She remembers how she couldn’t make any of it better.)

When Kara decides to watch movies again, it’s a conscious decision. It’s because she can’t stand the gaping hole in her life where Lena used to be, can’t handle the  _ lack  _ of something that she’d relied on for years and had taken for granted until it was long gone. 

It’s because of the fact that even as she remains miserable and heartbroken, she’s also getting better. Slowly but surely, she’s surviving losing the person who against all odds became the most important person in her life. Despite there being a gaping tear in what she thought her life was supposed to contain, Kara feels herself moving on. 

(The secret is that Kara doesn’t want to.) 

She doesn’t want to move on because once she does that, she’ll start to forget, to paint over what she once had. Eventually, if things stay the way they are, Kara will take down Lena’s pictures on her fridge, and won’t have her coffee order memorized for the dozen different cafes they used to frequent. Her name will slide further and further down Kara’s list of text conversations until one of them ends up with a new number, or Kara gets her phone destroyed in a fight and loses all of her contacts. The palpable pieces will start chipping away and it’ll get that much easier to stop thinking of the way she lied and used and betrayed— the person she promised she’d never hurt.

It seems impossible, but someday Kara might not carry the guilt that she does now—or at least, learn to breathe through the piercing pain of it.

So Kara refuses to get on with her life, or to forget. Not when there’s so much she still owes Lena, when she still wants desperately to prove herself worthy of Lena’s friendship. She believes in forgiveness, and redemption, and for the first time, she’s hoping someone will believe that she can be forgiven. She will prove herself worthy of a second chance, even if Lena doesn’t grant it to her. 

Besides, in a strange way, Kara is thankful for this forced misery. It keeps Lena with her no matter what, even if it is just memories now. She’ll live like this for the rest of time if it means Lena Luthor is even circumstantially involved in her life.

Having a ghost of Lena is better than having nothing at all.

Kara starts with the things her and Lena hardly ever watched unless forced to — namely, horror movies. It’s funny now that she could be afraid of slasher villains and poorly funded special effects when she had fought such evil and survived so many awful things. But, Lena used to snatch her legs up off the floor at some of the better-executed jump scares, warming her cold feet up against Kara’s legs, and she remembers how easy it was to be scared if that meant that Lena would lean into her a little more fully.

She tries watching stuffy period pieces and falls asleep during most of them, not seeing the appeal in watching men with wigs and colonialist accents argue for two and a half hours. She knows Lena has a soft spot for Victorian romances however, and Kara does enjoy it when the music softens and the two candlelit leads share something unspoken, but still tangible. Lena had called them sappy, but she always smiled at the end no matter what. Kara supposes that happy endings are hard not to find joy in. Those are the kinds of endings Kara wishes she could lose herself in now, as if somehow, they could ease the pain of their own.

Kara filters through the other genres without much thought, never having trouble finding some old memory, some connection to Lena. She watches adventure movies and epics, noirs and thrillers, comedies and science fiction (those were Lena’s favorite, even though she pretended to grumble about physics and the plausibility of time travel or lightsabers). Not for the first time, Kara wonders if Lena is thinking about her as much as she is. Kara seems to constantly have Lena in her mind. She wonders if Lena watches Star Wars now and thinks of her, thinks of Alderaan and Princess Leia and realizes that’s why Kara tears up during that scene. 

It would be better, Kara thinks, to have your planet, your people, your loved ones be destroyed by some great evil, something uncomplicated and easy to hate. To have an Empire to rebel against, and to gain some solace in its downfall. It is not so simple to be a survivor of a world whose loss could have been prevented by the people you had grown up admiring, respecting, trusting. To have the people you loved be that evil which causes their own downfall. 

(She wants to confide that to someone. Kara wants very badly for that someone to be Lena.)

And when Kara can bear it no longer, she watches musicals again. It’s a vulnerable place to exist in; these were the films she watched constantly when she first came to Earth, when above all she searched for something simple and easy to latch on to. So of course she gravitated towards the big Hollywood musicals, where everything was perfect, or if wasn’t, could be resolved with a song or two. And yes, Kara cried every time Dorothy sang “Over the Rainbow” because she could understand what it was like to long for an escape, for the ability to return to a faraway land that only exists in dreams.

(She’d been so nervous to watch musicals with Lena for some reason. Kara had always been careful about revealing truths about herself, and watching the movies that left her so open and exposed with the person she was hiding so much from seemed intimidating. But then she saw Lena tear up too when Dorothy leaned against the haystack and looked up into the blue and Kara suddenly didn’t want to watch any other musical without the other girl next to her.)

That movie has such a special meaning to Kara that it’s hard to believe that a goofy movie about a farm girl and a cowboy does the job of breaking Kara’s heart all the way, not Toto and a pair of ruby slippers.

It isn’t  _ The Wizard of Oz  _ that pierces through whatever walls Kara has placed around her heart, nor is it  _ Singing In The Rain,  _ or even  _ West Side Story.  _ No, it’s  _ Oklahoma!  _ that blindsides her, leaves her sobbing into her throw pillow until her voice disappears and she’s too exhausted to move to her bed.

She can’t figure out why a story set in the time of farmhands and Westward Expansion could make her think of Lena in any way until she rewatches it. 

And  _ oh.  _ Oh, she finally gets it now.

Kara hears the words being sung and is reminded of the fact that after everything, Lena still doesn’t have the full story.

Lena had accused her of having ulterior motives, of wanting to be close to her out of selfishness, of being too cowardly to ever take a real leap of faith. She isn’t all that wrong. Kara’s alter ego may be out in the open now for Lena to see, but that doesn’t mean Kara isn’t still hiding behind some lies.

The fact that she’s fallen in love with Lena Luthor accidentally along the way is the only secret she’s got left.

And while she is at a loss for how exactly it happened, the way she cries when the two leads sing to each other makes everything fall into place. It’s remarkable how hindsight works. The ache in her chest, the fragile way her friends are treating her, how she avoids flying by the LCorp building and feels her stomach twist when she sees Lena on the news— Kara knows that she’s showing all the signs of a broken heart.

Kara refused to acknowledge the truth for the longest time, but now it’s all she can think about, with the songs stuck in her head mixing in with her memories and reminding her exactly how everything went so wrong.

Lena believes that there hadn’t been a single honest, genuine moment in their friendship, believed that Kara didn’t see her as anything more than a tool, a pawn she’d been playing and was willing to discard at a moment’s notice. Lena believes that Kara never loved her, not in any way. Now Kara is left wondering how Lena could possibly think that was true, not when everything is laid out so bare in front of her now.

\------

_ Why do they think up stories that link my name with yours? _

_ Why do the neighbors gossip all day, behind their doors? _

_ I know a way to prove what they say is quite untrue. _

_ Here is the gist, a practical list of don’ts for you…  _

Lena had been the one to point out the attention being paid to their connection first, and she did it twice, to each of Kara’s identities separately and with very different approaches.

She asked to meet with Kara in her office months into their knowing each other. It was a few days after their friendship had actually become tangible, expanding past friendly interviews and impromptu follow up visits and growing into something genuine. It was easier to call Lena a friend once they started going out to lunch and spending time together that didn’t revolve around Kara scribbling down notes about LCorp’s latest project.

(Not that Kara minded when it was about that; she was perfectly content listening to excitement bleed through Lena’s professional persona as she talked about the new developments in renewable energy, and Kara was okay with pretending that she didn’t learn about photovoltaics when she was eleven on Krypton.)

Whatever the case, Kara finally felt like their friendship was going somewhere, and it was hard not to be thrilled about even the small things.

Kara had a new friend, a remarkable friend, and it was normal to be giddy when your new friend gave you her personal number, right?

That morning however, Lena didn’t seem as excited as she was, and Kara felt the smile slip off her face. She retraced her steps, trying to make sure she hadn’t overstepped, hadn’t ever gone ahead with something the other woman wasn’t ready for. Anyone who knew anything about the Luthors knew that they were enigmatic and famously difficult to read. Kara hoped she hadn’t believed in something that was never really offered.

When the CEO slid four different National City tabloids towards her and her expression molded into something apologetic, Kara was back to being confused. She flipped them over, and stared at pictures of… herself.

It was strange, seeing blurred photos of Kara Danvers, not Supergirl, in action. Not that Kara was doing anything out of the ordinary. Alex would kill her if she was ever caught doing something “super” without the suit on. It was just her leaving her apartment with Lena, and getting into a town car with Lena, throwing an arm around Lena as they walked in a park, and smiling over at Lena at an upscale restaurant, and…  _ oh.  _

Kara felt her cheeks get red as she read the title. “Luthor pursuing New Mystery Woman?” it asked, and she could finally understand Lena’s odd behavior. There was no way Kara was even remotely in Lena’s league. The insinuation that Lena had stooped down so low, settled for someone who had only just been promoted from being an assistant must have been embarrassing for the other woman.

(Lena could have anyone she wanted in the world, human or otherwise. Kara was sure about that. No way could a mousy, cardigan clad woman who ate an ungodly amount of pizza ever be Lena Luthor’s vision of a perfect woman. She wasn’t even sure Supergirl could live up to what Lena deserved.)

“I’m sorry,” they both blurted out at the same time, and now Kara was lost again.

“Why are you apologizing?” she asked, having a hard time tearing her eyes away from the images of herself on the paper. It was strangely appealing to think about. The life the tabloids were painting was fake, obviously, but still. Kara liked how happy Lena looked. How they both looked.

“You’re my only friend here, Kara. Really, one of my only friends  _ anywhere _ .” For her part, Lena seemed less humiliated by that admission and more focused on making sure Kara wasn’t upset. “I value your friendship, and your opinion. I don’t want you to think- I’m not the salacious heiress they like to make me out to be. My life just invites hyperbole. I’ve made my peace with it, but I never intended for you to get caught up in any of this.”

Lena looked really, truly, regretful, and Kara saw the way she caved inwards, knowing that Lena was blaming herself again, even for something as silly as this. Lena did it far too often, immediately shouldering the responsibility for things she wasn’t even at fault for. Kara knew because she did the same thing, so much that it was impulsive. Maybe that was why she had such a knack for being Supergirl— her back wouldn’t buckle under the weight of anything on this earth, not when she already carried her past with her. Why not give the people who had given her a second chance at having a home and a family peace of mind, even if it was at her expense? 

Kara had come to this planet as a protector— a provider. It was the reason she’d survived. Her, out of millions of other Kryptonians, so many of whom were more intelligent or stronger or more capable than a little girl who had only escaped death because her family wanted her to look after her baby cousin. The Phantom Zone had denied her that chance, and even when she did reach her destination, Clark— he didn’t need her protection. Didn’t want it. But the Earth and the people there, they did, so Kara gave it to them. 

She could accept gratitude in the victories just as well as she could take the resentment whenever she lost. It was what she had been sent here to do. Kara didn’t see why Lena thought she had to do the same. Lena wasn’t Supergirl; she wasn’t even a Luthor, even though she got all the baggage that came with them. She hadn’t asked for any of this, and here she was, fighting everyday to do enough good to outweigh the bad and refusing to succumb to doubt or to the Luthor legacy.

They hadn’t known each other for very long, but Kara trusted her gut enough to know how admirable of a person Lena Luthor was, no matter what the rest of the world thought of her.

Kara wanted to take care of this one small thing for Lena, no matter how insignificant it was. “We’re friends,” she said carefully, and she couldn’t deny the relief that flooded through her body when Lena nodded firmly. It was reassuring, knowing that someone as powerful, and brilliant, and busy, as Lena Luthor valued her time with her. “And I knew your reputation before we met. It didn’t scare me away then, and it isn’t something you need to apologize for now.”

“Thank you,” Lena said, and for a moment, it sounded genuine. Her shoulders hunched again and she glanced down at the paparazzi photos. “But this… this is different. The implications they’re making, I-”

“It doesn’t bother me,” Kara said, punctuating her point by throwing the magazines over towards Lena’s office couch. She straightened up, squaring her shoulders and injecting just enough of her Supergirl persona to put some weight behind her words. Once Lena seemed like she actually believed her, Kara laughed a little, pushing up her glasses and slipping back into the harmless dorkiness of Kara Danvers. “We’re friends, and that’s what matters. I’m usually too clueless to even be aware of this stuff anyways. To think, all of National City thinks I’m dating a billionaire and I still buy groceries in my pajamas.”

Lena’s mouth turned upwards at that, but she still looked cautious. Doubtful, like it was hard for her to believe that Kara could brush something like this off without a second thought. 

(She didn’t know that Kara’s alter ego was involved in paparazzi stories that were too bizarre to top. Frankly, something as tame as false relationship rumors was nothing compared to the insane tales of doppelgangers and evil twins that the media was convinced Supergirl had.)

“I just don’t want you in any sort of trouble because of me,” Lena said, sighing and releasing the rest of her misgivings along with it. She walked from around her desk, and stood next to Kara, staring out the window towards the clouds outside. Their shoulders brushed, and Kara didn’t understand why she focused so suddenly on the contact. “Tabloid gossip is one thing, but Kara, I don’t live a life of security. We met because my brother was trying to kill me, remember?”

“Kinda hard to forget,” Kara teased, and was glad that Lena responded to it in kind, rolling her eyes and smacking Kara’s bicep. She moved away subtly; out of all the ways Lena could discover she was Supergirl, Kara really didn’t want it to be because they had to go to the ER for a couple of broken knuckles. “I’m not afraid of your brother,” she said, a kind of firmness in her voice that she hoped would put Lena at ease. “I’ve got Supergirl on speed dial, after all.”

Lena grimaced just slightly at that, her shoulders stiffening before she disguised the newfound tension in her body with a raised brow. “Right. I forgot about that,” she said, a certain standoffishness to her words. “You certainly have a knack for getting close to people with targets on their backs.”

“I’ll be okay,” Kara said, choosing to ignore whatever the newfound reservations were that Lena held for Supergirl for now. Her voice turned teasing again, but sincere. “Really, I will. I just want to keep being your friend. Even if you are the  _ enigmatic black sheep _ of the Luthor family. Actually, that’s sorta cool. And if being your friend means people will take photos of me stuffing my face at brunch, then so be it.”

Lena looked surprised by Kara’s assertion; maybe it was the casual, affectionate way Kara used her reputation, or maybe she really didn’t think Kara would want to continue spending time with someone as high profile as her. Either way, she could tell that Lena appreciated it by the way she gave out a breathless smile, shaking her head as she crossed her desk and leaned over it. 

“Well then, Miss Danvers, I suppose it’s settled, then. You drive a hard bargain, but friends it is.”

Kara felt her own lips twist up into a cheerful grin, taking in the way Lena’s eyes sparkled, sated by Kara’s reassurance and maybe even a little grateful for it. “Friends,” she repeated, and Lena laughed again.

She dismissed herself after that; she had an article due in an hour for editing and she wanted to swing by her favorite food truck before submitting it and subjecting herself to whatever biting comments Snapper would make about her punctuation this time. Lena had a meeting starting shortly as well, but she walked Kara towards the doors of her office, reaching out and grabbing Kara’s wrist right as they finished making their goodbyes.

“Friends do each other favors, right?” Lena asked, drumming her fingers against her thighs. It was a nervous tick, and Kara turned back towards her fully.

“I believe it’s somewhere in the contract,” she said. “What do you need?”

“Your help,” Lena started, before swallowing and meeting her eyes. “I’d like to get in touch with Supergirl.”

… 

Kara returned seven hours later, a cape around her shoulders instead of her press pass. She smoothed out her skirt unthinkingly; she wanted to make a good impression, even if technically Lena had already met her as Supergirl. There had been a handful of rescues, as well as a few tentative,  _ exhilarating _ team ups that left them both a little breathless and all too aware of how unusual it was for a Luthor and a Super to be on the same side. Their relationship was in the earliest stages, but Kara trusted Lena.

She’d assumed that Lena thought highly of her as well, but based on her behavior from earlier, maybe Supergirl stood on rocky ground.

Apparently since Kara had done something as Supergirl that had rubbed Lena the wrong way, she really wanted to come off as the polished, confident, put-together superhero that Supergirl— that _ she _ — was. 

(Hopefully, the ketchup stain that she’d spilled on her sleeve after needing to fly away in a hurry while visiting a hot dog stand came out in the wash like Winn had promised her it would.)

Going in through the balcony seemed much more enticing than waiting for Jess, Lena’s secretary, to buzz her in, so Kara landed softly on the marble floor. She checked her watch; she was five minutes early. Lena had requested to meet right at nine, when the building would be free of lingering workers— and made off limits for the curious members of the paparazzi who liked to loiter in the hallways or elevators, hoping to catch Lena on the move. 

She told Kara earlier that day that she tolerated their presence simply because she was too busy during the day to think much of them at all, and because a Luthor throwing a citizen out of the building, private property or not, would be terrible press for LCorp. It was a begrudging sort of defeat, one that made Kara want to march up to these so called members of the press and lecture them about the integrity of reporting, but she knew that would only make things worse.

Maybe if Supergirl told these creeps where exactly they could stick their cameras, the message would be received. But she’d be in trouble with Alex then, and Kara didn’t want anyone else upset with Supergirl until she could figure out what she’d done to antagonize Lena.

She thought about knocking; Lena was sitting at her desk, still filling out a massive stack of forms despite most people ending their workdays four hours earlier. The office chair turned, and Lena saw her just as she was raising her hand to tap the glass.

Lena jumped a little, automatically reaching for the taser Kara knew she kept under her desk before her brain recognized that it was Supergirl, not some henchmen out for her head. The defensive glare on her face softened into something less panicked, but Kara could see the way that her body was still coiled up; Lena had not appreciated her surprise entrance to her balcony, and Kara may have just worsened her mood.

So much for starting this meeting off on the right foot.

By the time Lena had risen from her chair and slid open the glass door, her body language had smoothed out to its usual impassiveness. The neutrality did nothing to stop Kara from fidgeting her hands behind her back, where they couldn’t be seen. Why she felt nervous she wasn’t sure. Supergirl was usually the part of her persona that helped Kara be absolutely fearless, and yet one slight frown from Lena Luthor and Kara was worried she’d shrink, hands on her hips or not.

The excited smile that grew on her face wasn’t forced, however, as she inclined her head in greeting when she walked into the office. She found herself unable to fake things around the other woman. If there was one way that Lena could actually figure out her true identity, it was because Kara knew she looked at Lena the same way, no matter which part she was playing.

“Supergirl,” Lena said, and she couldn’t be completely upset because her voice still held a certain amount of awe. “You’re early. Thank you for agreeing to this.”

“Of course, Miss Luthor,” Kara said in return, turning back towards Lena’s desk once she heard the balcony door close. “Kara Danvers said you wanted to speak with me?”

Lena didn’t answer at first, her head tilting as Kara brought her other self into the conversation. She looked as if she was trying to decide how to say whatever was obviously on her mind. Lena decided that bluntness would be the best way to operate, apparently.

“Yes. Actually, she’s exactly the person that you and I need to have a conversation about.”

Supergirl faltered; she knew that Lena saw it in the way her mouth opened, then closed. In truth, Lena had caught her off guard again. All this time, Kara had assumed that she’d messed up as Supergirl, but now she wasn’t sure which persona Lena was displeased with.

“What about her? Is something wrong?” If anything, Lena’s expression grew graver, and Kara was starting to grasp at straws. “She’s not in danger, is she?”

“No. Not at the moment,” Lena said, and she reached again for the stack of tabloids that she had shown Kara Danvers earlier. But this time, when Lena handed her the papers, there were other articles. They didn’t look fresh off the print— in fact, Kara was pretty sure that she’d written some of these herself— but they all centered around Catco. Or rather, as Kara was starting to catch onto Lena’s motivation, all the times Catco and its workers were targeted by a myriad of villains. “But she certainly seems to be quite frequently, wouldn’t you agree?”

Kara blinked, staring at the paper as she tried to work out what she was going to say. “Yes,” she settled on, and Lena seemed to calm slightly at her candor. Until, that is, Kara dismissed what she was sure Lena believed to be real, important concerns. “But that’s just part of her job, Miss Luthor.”

“Kara Danvers is a reporter, is she not?” Lena asked, her eyes narrowing and some frost gathering in her tone. ‘Not a job with a high mortality rate, especially if you work for Catco Worldwide Media. She just wrote an amazing article… about an animal shelter.”

It was, admittedly, a feeble excuse, and Lena saw right through it. That very article was sitting on Lena’s desk, and there was no denying it. Kara knew that she wasn’t exactly a high profile journalist at the moment, not when she could barely get her fluff pieces approved by Snapper. But what else was she supposed to say? She hadn’t known Lena very long, certainly not long enough to justify the sudden need she felt to just blurt out the truth. 

“Kara just believes in finding out the truth, and she has a nose for it. Sometimes, that comes with a… certain degree of danger, but that’s what I’m here for,” she said, sticking to the story and hoping that Lena would just drop it. 

She didn’t.

“What about the times you haven’t been around?” she asked, shuffling through the articles until she settled on one that Kara recognized. Lena slid it over into Supergirl’s view, crossing her arms and frowning.

National City had gone through an uncharacteristically quiet stretch of crime, leaving Supergirl with a limited to-do list, other than wandering the DEO and pranking Winn. And seeing as she was still Cat’s assistant at the time, and had been trying to use up the mountain of sick days that had accumulated, for the first time in a long time, Kara had absolutely  _ nothing _ to do. Not wanting to waste another day, she ran errands— did laundry, finished up a few interviews, and stopped by a bank that she and the DEO suspected was funneling money to a high-up, powerful crime boss. She thought it was the perfect undercover role, just being regular, ordinary Kara Danvers who wanted to open up a banking account.

That is, until a group of very unhappy criminals had shown up, heavily armed, and had taken everyone in the bank hostage for three hours. 

It had been an unpleasant, frustrating, waste of an afternoon. But while Kara was embarrassed enough having to be rescued by J’onn and then dealing with the debrief by Alex about how close she had been to accidentally revealing her secret identity, she had at least been proud that she’d gotten a good story out of it for Cat Grant, who had dragged her into an interview as soon as she’d shown her face at the office. 

She remembered suddenly, as Lena was tapping her foot, talking in detail about how a gun had been held to her head for at least half of the hostage negotiation. Cat had salivated over the details, telling her that it was just the type of harrowing survivor story that flew off the shelves. It was what National City needed at the time, someone to prove that being afraid of the crime gang wasn’t the answer, and Kara felt useful in that, at the time. But for someone like Lena who was steadily realizing how often Kara found herself in tight spots? She imagined that reading those moments wasn’t exactly comforting to someone who didn’t know that getting shot wasn’t high up on Kara’s list of anxieties.

It was strange, having someone who was so intensely focused on Kara Danvers’ safety rather than Supergirl’s. Was she supposed to feel this flattered by the fact that Lena had done such a deep dive into her history? That Lena had read something like this, and even though she hadn’t even been in National City at the time, and felt angry enough that she wanted to challenge Supergirl herself on how she’d messed up?

(Probably not. But Kara was enamored all the same.)

“That was an anomaly,” she said. “A freak accident. I’ll always be there for Kara when she needs me. And besides, she’s proven that she can take care of herself.”

“Kara doesn’t have invulnerable skin,” Lena replied. Kara heard the way her teeth ground together, and saw the muscle that jumped out against her jaw. “I don’t care how smart or tough or capable she is. She can’t dodge bullets, especially if she’s being held hostage.”

Lena was veering almost comically close to discovering just how wrong she was about Kara’s chances against a fired gun. Kara fought to keep her posture straight, to act like Supergirl instead of Kara Danvers, who would immediately go to Lena’s side and reassure her. Kara Danvers would take Lena’s hands in her own and make sure she wasn’t squeezing too tightly, but hold on just the same until Lena softened somewhat, would smile and make a joke and promise Lena that she would be fine. But Supergirl didn’t do those things, especially not with a Luthor, so Kara stayed where she was. 

“What is this really about, Miss Luthor?”

Lena’s mouth opened slightly, as if she was taken aback by Kara flipping the interrogation on its head. Kara had a pretty good inkling as to what Lena was really worried about, but she wanted to hear it for herself. 

She was silent for half a beat before letting out a long exhale, steady through her nose. Sinking back into her chair, she turned away, towards the wall of windows and the gorgeous view below. Kara couldn’t look away from the view she had; Lena’s profile stood out strikingly against the shine and haze of the lights below. A queen in her tower, she couldn’t help but think, just like the stories Eliza had read her long ago. Renouncing her family, but still being hated by the people below for being a part of what they did. Lena didn’t have many allies, much less friends, and it was purposeful. Her isolation may be self-enforced, but it didn’t make it any less sad.

For the first time, Kara understood that Lena Luthor may be just as lonely as she was.

“I’m sure that you’re aware of the headlines that have been swirling around our meeting,” Lena said. “A Luthor and a Super in the same city again… I can understand the scrutiny. Our families are going to be inseparable for the rest of history, it seems.”

Lena’s voice held no hint of vanity when she acknowledged how notorious, how recognizable her family had become. Her brother, on the other hand, reveled in it. Lex Luthor forged his single-minded rampage against aliens just as much to please his own narcissistic view of the world as he did it to see Superman dead. Her cousin, and herself were the ultimate threat to someone like Lex— a reminder that no matter how much money or power or time that man could invest in their own selves, they couldn’t fly. They couldn’t lift buildings just because of a yellow sun. Lex Luthor couldn’t shape the world with his bare hands, and he hated Kal because he could, if he wanted to. 

She saw none of that anger in Lena now. If anything, the woman just looked tired, exhausted at being in the center of a hurricane but resigned to it all the same. Determined to establish some good in the Luthor legacy all the same, even if she would never be beloved for it.

“I’m not my cousin,” Kara said. “And you aren’t your brother. I don’t see why we can’t create our own narrative.”

“I appreciate the sentiment. And I agree,” Lena said, still sounding pained, preoccupied with whatever had been bothering her all day. “Luckily for me, we aren’t our families. But we’re just as famous, and just as likely to put our social circles in the limelight. We’re dangerous people to associate with, Supergirl.”

“So Kara...” she realized, and it seemed so obvious now, that Lena didn’t have a problem with Kara or with Supergirl. What Lena hated was that to the best of her knowledge, some sweet, innocent, inexperienced reporter had somehow managed to befriend the two most powerful people in National City, and was going to get hurt because of it. “You’re worried about her. About her getting wrapped up in all this.”

Lena nodded. “She’s a good person. A great person, and I suspect an even better friend. She doesn’t deserve the consequences that could come with being in our lives, wouldn’t you agree?” she asked, raising her hand even as Supergirl opened her mouth to say something back. “Count yourself lucky that she hasn’t been photographed with you. I’d imagine most of the world doesn’t realize that you two are friends yet. But as soon as they do, just think of the type of people who’ll go after her to get to you.”

“I think you’ll have a hard time convincing Kara Danvers not to be anyone’s friend, bad guys or not,” Supergirl said, fighting to keep familiar exasperation out of her voice, because there was no way Lena would mistake Kara’s voice coming out of Supergirl’s mouth, not when they were talking about her. Still, it was frustrating, knowing that her visit earlier hadn’t done much to soothe Lena. It seemed like this guilt, however misguided, wasn’t going to go away easily. 

“There could be criminals that have her name underlined on some blacklist, and you’re more concerned about the strength of her character?”

“I just think that Kara is going to find a way to be in our lives whether we like it or not.”

Lena closed her eyes, and she rolled her shoulders back just slightly, as if she was trying to rid herself of the tenseness in her body. Her professional facade slipped, just for a moment, as her hand jerked as if to rub at her eyes. Kara knew she’d been at LCorp since before six— knew that this type of extreme work schedule was normal for Lena. If she was Kara Danvers right now, she’d make sure Lena was at home and out of her stilettos before this type of conversation happened. But being Supergirl, she stayed still, trying not to think about how many hours of sleep Lena runs on in a week.

“And what if we’re not deserving of that?” Lena asked, and the tiredness was evident even in her voice now. “You may be National City’s darling, Supergirl, but I can assure you that I will bring nothing but bad news to a girl like Kara Danvers.” 

“She’s told me about you before, you know.” Lena’s head tilted again. Kara had caught her attention. “She believes in you. In your goodness. She thinks that more than anything else, you deserve someone who cares about you. She wants to be that, if you’ll let her. And I know you’re worried about her, trust me, I know. But Kara thinks you need a friend, and when she really, truly believes in someone, nothing is capable of stopping her from being there.”

The room grew quiet, and Kara started to worry that she’d overstepped. It was a lot to throw at the other woman all at once, but she wanted to say it. Even if she and Lena weren’t at a place in their friendship where Lena would trust that Kara’s words were genuine, she hoped that speaking as Supergirl, at least, would prove something to her. 

Kara could hear a hitch in Lena’s breathing, heard her swallow harshly and bite the side of her mouth as if to ward off an extreme reaction. They were imperceptible to any human, but Kara knew what she’d done. 

(Her guilt grew— she’d come here to make things right, but instead she’d made Lena Luthor nearly cry in her own office.) 

“I’m sorry,” she said, after Lena’s silence went on too long. When there was still no reply, she started rambling, unable to stop her nervousness from spilling out. “I shouldn’t have said all that. That was told to me in confidence, and here I go telling you. Kara’s going to be so embarrassed-”

“No! No. It’s fine,” Lena said, turning to face Supergirl fully now. Kara chose not to comment on the tight way she held her jaw. “I sometimes forget how ceaselessly kind Kara Danvers is. Towards a Luthor, no less.”

Supergirl nods, smoothing back into marble. “You seem deserving of it, Miss Luthor.”

“I hope so.”

They regarded each other in silence. Kara knew it was going to be impossible now to maintain a formal relationship with Lena while she was Supergirl, not after this. Alex had told her to keep her distance, but Lena was more than just a Luthor now, in the eyes of Supergirl and Kara both. How could Supergirl continue to stand there with her arms crossed and a passive look on her face after she learned how much Lena cared? 

“I know that I don’t have any right to make demands, especially not with my last name,” Lena spoke up again. “But I want you to promise me that Kara Danvers won’t get hurt because of her conviction in me.”

“I told you, Miss Luthor,” Kara said. “She won’t be, not while I’m around.”

“Let me make myself clearer, then. Promise me that you’ll make her life the priority. Over mine if the situation arises.”

Lena was looking over at her as if she’d just laid out the terms and conditions of a simple transaction, a strategic business deal instead of what it really was: Lena tipping the scales, asking Kara not to save her, and to save… herself instead. 

(It was incredibly noble. Ridiculous and concerning, and dangerously flippant of the value of her own life, but noble all the same.)

There were glaring flaws in the logic of Lena’s request, though she couldn’t be blamed for it. Kara couldn’t explain to her how impossible that scenario actually was. It seemed especially unwise to reveal her identity to Lena now, not after an entire day of agonizingly pivoting between her two disguises. It wouldn’t be funny; it would be cruel.

She’d allow Lena this— let her have this small victory, even if they both knew that Supergirl never put more value on one person’s life over others. But Lena didn’t need proof of Kara being the champion of the everyman, she needed peace of mind. She needed the weight of Kara’s life off of her shoulders.

“I promise,” Kara finally said, and she looked at Lena gravely enough that the CEO seemed to understand the hesitance over her request. “But make no mistake, Miss Luthor. I’ll be there to protect you, too. I don’t care about the bad blood between our families. You’re looking for a fresh start, and I don’t intend on letting your past get in the way.”

“Thank you,” she said, and after another beat passed, reached over and turned off her desk lamp. Lena stood up, gathering her things and sliding carefully into her bag. She stooped down under the table, resurfacing with her heels dangling from her fingers. “It’s getting late, and unfortunately I have a business trip to Metropolis early tomorrow morning. Anything in the skies that I should be worried about?”

It was remarkable how quickly Lena could pivot from threatening Supergirl about the well-being of Kara’s life to approaching her own with a sly smile and a roguish sense of humor. That type of humor was born from years of pain and betrayal, Kara knew, but she thought that Lena carried it beautifully. 

(She shouldn’t have to. It seemed that Lena was an Atlas of her own design, much like herself. Kara couldn’t have imagined that such a stunning person would be holding up the horizon next to her.)

Supergirl walked over to Lena’s side of the desk towards the balcony, stopping and picking Lena’s coat up carefully by its shoulder seams. She raised an eyebrow in silent question, and didn’t miss the faint blush that colored Lena’s face when she nodded, and Kara helped her put her arms through the sleek fabric of the blazer. 

“The weather looks perfect Miss Luthor,” she said, and praying that she didn’t scare Lena off, brushed off a piece of lint from Lena’s back. She wasn’t sure if it was her hand that was shaking or if it was a shiver that moved through Lena’s body. “You couldn’t ask for a better day to travel.”

“Let’s hope we don’t have a repeat of the last time I climbed into a helicopter,” Lena said, regaining her composure and grabbing her bag from the floor. She stood cast in the moonlight from the balcony windows, solitary and magnetically beautiful, as if from an Edward Hopper canvas, and Kara forced herself to not just freeze and stare. “As much as I enjoy your company, I’d prefer it under different circumstances.”

Kara began to excuse herself, walking steadily over to the open door and turning once she reached the edge of the terrace. “I’ll make sure your flight goes smoothly,” she said, and she couldn’t contain the playful little smile that grew on her face as she started to float herself, the tips of her boots just barely grazing the surface of the brick. Lena was taken by the casual display, Kara knew— a tiny gasp puffed from her mouth and she matched Kara’s grin. “Besides, you have nothing to worry about. Statistically, flying is still the safest way to travel.”

She flew off into the night with a wink and a wave, and if her heart was beating too fast to be considered normal, Kara chalked it off to the fact that her turns were a little too fast over downtown on the way home. 

(Half a dozen hydrangeas were in Kara’s office the next morning. Eliza had taught her the meanings of flowers once. These were meant as a thank you. Gratitude for understanding. She sent Lena a simple heart emoji along with a mountain of suggestions for the best ice cream in town, and when Lena sent back a smiley face in response, her heart skipped again.) 

\------

_ Don't throw bouquets at me, _

_ Don't please my folks too much, _

_ Don't laugh at my jokes too much, _

_ People will say we're in love! _

Lena loved to do things like an office full of flowers: big, over the top gestures to show Kara her gratitude or her affection. Kara’s office was filled with flowers after she defended Lena during Lillian’s escape from prison, and the gifts didn’t stop there. For the next week, new bouquets were placed on every available surface until James started asking if she worked at a botanical garden on the side. She let him tease her with an easy smile; they had only just cleared the air over the Guardian news, and Kara had missed having a friend like him around. 

When what seemed to be Holland’s entire supply of tulips showed up at the doorstep of her apartment, Kara had called Lena, laughing, and thanked her profusely but requested that Lena could just join her for game night if she wanted to thank her. That Friday night, Lena knocked at the door, holding a more modest arrangement of sunflowers, and Kara welcomed her inside. Alex’s mouth was still pinched and James kept his distance, but Kara deemed the night a success. In the span of a few hours, Lena won two games of Monopoly in a row and had managed to impress Winn, not that that was difficult to do. In Kara’s eyes it seemed like she belonged here, and could have all this time. It was seamless, and by the time she had slid into her town car at the end of the night, Lena was part of the group. At least, Kara thought so.

(Lena may have been raised learning that giving gifts was the best way to please, but really, she showed she cared most by just being there when Kara needed her.)

… 

“Hey,” Kara said one night, where it had just been the two of them, eating a late dinner in the LCorp office. “Do you have any plans for the holidays?”

“A time-honored Luthor tradition, actually,” she replied, breaking open a fortune cookie with a concentration that Kara found impossibly endearing. The cookie split evenly, and Lena smirked, taking out the fortune and casting it aside without a glance. Of course Lena Luthor would ignore any part of the future that had been written out for her.

“Really? I didn’t know your family… was the holiday type.” Kara grimaced at the words, but Lena let out a chuckle, and it was a nice change from the usual caution she held when talking about the Luthors. 

“Oh they’re not,” Lena said, and this time her laugh came out as more of a scoff. “No, the Luthor way is to open up a good bottle of wine and work through the night. Call me a Scrooge, but honestly, I get my best work done when I’m doing it out of spite.”

Kara had stopped mid-bite of her potsticker, her eyes widening as Lena talked so casually. It was like she didn’t realize how miserable her holidays sounded. “Wait. You really don’t do anything to celebrate?”

“I’ve no one to celebrate with,” Lena said, her smile too tight to be considered genuine. “My family’s either dead, in jail, or wants me in a grave. Not sure they’re worth sharing ham and potatoes with.”

“That’s not true,” Kara argued back automatically, before backtracking. “I mean, that last part’s true, about your family kinda being jerks, but it isn’t true that you don’t have anyone to share the holidays with.”

Lena was still laughing softly, but there was more pain behind it now. Her holiday routine obviously wasn’t something she enjoyed talking about. Maybe it was because she hated pity, hated feeling pathetic, had told Kara that much herself. “I didn’t mean to upset you with my less than exciting plans, Kara. I know how excited you are about these types of things.”

“No, Lena, I mean-”

“It’s okay, Kara. It’s better this-”

“Come to dinner with me!” Kara finally manages to yell, feeling her face burn red as Lena stops in the middle of her sentence, her mouth hanging open, halfway through a word that dropped unheard between them. “I mean,” she backtracks, realizing what she’s blurted out. “I host a holiday get-together at my apartment every year. A home cooked meal, gifts, eggnog, the whole thing. My adoptive mom, Eliza, usually brings way too much food, and Alex tells me it isn’t healthy to eat all the leftovers by myself. So you could swing by and bring an extra plate? Not that I don’t have enough plates! There will be cutlery provided. I… I’d love it if you came.”

Lena had remained still, her eyes widening and then glazing over sometime after Kara started talking about the food. She didn’t seem like she even knew Kara had stopped talking, she was thinking so hard, which Kara tried to be grateful for. If she had bored Lena that badly, then at least she hadn’t heard the bit about Kara asking her to bring her own utensils to the party. 

“Sorry,” she felt compelled to say after the beat of silence dragged on. “You know what? This was a bad idea. Just- just forget I said anything. I know you’re a busy woman— gosh, you’re the CEO of the biggest company in the world! I’m sure you’d enjoy getting work done more than my silly little party.”

“You want me to come to your holiday dinner?” Lena asked, ignoring whatever rambling that had been spilling uncontrollably from Kara’s mouth. “With your entire family? Your mother?”

“Well, sure! I mean, it’s a pretty ragtag group. Most of the people coming don’t have places to go for the holidays either. There’s Alex and Eliza and me, obviously, but Jeremiah… hasn’t been around for a long time, so our holidays are different now. J’onn is Alex’s friend from work, and he and James and Winn don’t have family around.” Kara was counting on her fingers now, too busy thinking about who all RSVP'd to actually pay attention to Lena. “Maggie will be there, of course. Clark and Lois have their own thing in Metropolis, but Lucy said she might be in town, and Mon- Mike is supposed to be there too, but I haven’t seen him in a few days so who knows.”

“Sounds like a full apartment,” Lena pointed out, shrinking away. Her body seemed stiff and suspended in the air, her takeout forgotten. She’d broken one of the cheap chopsticks Kara had supplied her with, and fiddled with the splintered edge. “I can’t imagine you’d want another person hanging around.”

(It was reluctance, clear as day, and for Kara, who so exuberantly expressed herself, it was hard not to see it as a rejection. Was this what it was like to have someone turn you down? Not that she was asking Lena out! This was a friend’s dinner date, nothing more. Then again, it didn’t seem to matter at this point.)

“Lena,” she said gently, trying not to sound dejected. The other woman obviously was trying to figure out a way out of going, not that Kara could blame her. It had been a impulsive, stupid plan. Kara had just seen the way Lena was deflecting, refusing to appear lonely, and wanted to do something to show her friend she cared. “It’s okay if you don’t want to go. I understand that you have better things to do.”

If anything, Lena’s face only grew more panicked, and Kara wanted to slap herself. Everything that she was saying only made her seem worse, even if that wasn’t her intention. At best, she sounded pitiful, and at worst, passive aggressive and manipulative. Knowing Lena and her reluctance around their entire friendship, she’d assume the latter. After all, dozens of people were vying for the time and attention of someone like Lena, probably doing or saying whatever they had to in the process. Kara had never wanted to be seen by Lena as one of them. 

But then Lena jerked out of whatever stupor she’d been stuck in, her hand darting out and forcibly grabbing Kara’s wrist. “No!” she gasped, her eyes still wide. The lunging movement caused a carton of fried rice to topple over onto the glass coffee table. While Kara leaned forwards to clean it up, Lena collected herself. “I’ve messed this all up, haven’t I? I’m not good at these types of things.”

“What do you mean?”

“I want to go, Kara. I’d love to. But doing this? Meeting the rest of your friends? Meeting your adoptive mom? I’ll only screw it up.” Lena sighed, walking a fine line between evasiveness and vulnerability. Though, it seemed like a losing battle, as Lena grew more honest by the second. “You’ve found a family for yourself all on your own, and that’s wonderful. Don’t feel like you need to include me in something you’ve worked so hard to build just because you feel sorry for me.”

“I don’t feel sorry for you,” Kara denied, even though Lena deserved more sympathy than most of National City combined. Of course learning about Lena’s life and everything that she’s been through was heartbreaking. Kara had always been an extremely empathetic person. But this wasn’t an act of mercy. “At least, not in the way you think I do. I want you to come because you’re my  _ best friend.  _ And I need backup now that Alex and Maggie have both decided to gang up on me.”

Lena had started to smile, thinking of the bullying that Kara would have to endure at the hands of the others. But once she remembered her full, messy history with Kara’s sister and her girlfriend, Lena’s face darkened.“I’m guessing you haven’t told anyone else about my invitation,” she guessed, and Kara’s guilty shrug proved it.

“What’s that got to do with it?”

“Because I know how much they love you and want what’s best for you, which is why I doubt they’ll be thrilled about a Luthor showing up to help hang up the tinsel or frost the cookies.”

“They’re just… protective,” Kara conceded, grimacing. She remembered how much pouting she had to do last time with Alex just to convince her to at least say a handful of sentences to Lena during the course of game night. “And I’ll admit, it took some of them a long time to come around about you. But I promise that they have. Besides, Eliza has only ever thought highly of you and your work. She’s amazing, even if Alex calls her overly affectionate, and I promise that she’s very excited to meet you.”

“Why on earth would your mother be excited to meet me? I didn’t realize she even knew I existed.” Lena’s voice had grown a little shrill again at the mention of Eliza.

It was Kara’s turn to stiffen now, the tips of her ears turning red as she hurriedly stuffed a potsticker in her mouth. “She says that I kinda… talk about you a lot, so. Probably that.” She swallows, missing the surprised, bashful smile that had grown on Lena’s face. “But see? We want you there, celebrating with us! No one’s gonna bite, and if they do, they’ll be the ones spending the holidays alone, not you.”

Lena was still smiling, likely at Kara’s sudden tough attitude about something as light hearted as a holiday party, but she still didn’t seem convinced. “I don’t know, Kara,” she said. “Seems like all I’ll be doing is creating tension. It’s the holidays, and I know how much you love this time of year. I want you to enjoy them.”

“Lena, that’s why I’m inviting you!” Kara said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “You’re so fun to be around, and honestly, now that I know you, I can’t imagine the holidays without you.”

“That’s- that means a lot to me, Kara-“

“I’ve been trying to find the guts to invite you for the past two weeks, you know,” Kara admitted. It was true that Kara had been thinking about asking Lena about her holiday plans for a long time— really, since the time they became real friends. But the actual act of walking up to the woman that she knew for a fact was affluent and almost guaranteed to have prior commitments during this time of year, and having the gall to invite her to come to Kara’s cramped, exuberantly decorated apartment instead of some black tie affair? It was harder than it seemed, even if she had faced worse odds before.

“Really?” Lena asked, and while her smirk played her off as coy, Kara knew the truth in the way she sounded just a little bit breathless. Lena was surprised, and maybe even touched.

“Yeah, I was psyching myself up earlier in the lobby. Jess probably hates me even more than she did, with the way I was pacing and muttering.”

“Jess doesn’t hate you,” Lena dismissed, lying through her teeth. “She simply has trouble getting behind your abundance of energy, sometimes. Particularly in the morning.”

“It doesn’t matter anyways,” Kara said. “It’s just that… I just think you’re fantastic, Lena, and I wanted to let you know that you’re welcome with me, even if I assumed you’d be busy sipping cocktails at a gala somewhere. You being a ‘salacious heiress’ and all.” Kara was teasing, now, but she didn’t want to make her intentions unclear. “No pressure, okay? Just know that the offer will always stand.”

Lena just nodded. Normally, her silence would be interpreted by Kara as polite dismissal, Lena’s way of telling her that she wasn’t quite ready for something. It was how they’d set boundaries so far in their relationship, a sign that maybe Lena wasn’t quite ready for the affection that Kara was so used to giving to her friends. But this time, the quiet seemed more promising, helped along with the soft, easy smile that had grown on Lena’s face; her lack of response was only a delay, not a denial.

“Think about it, alright? I’ll keep my door open in case you decide to stop by.” Kara heard a telltale buzz from her phone, and knew that Alex needed something from her at the DEO. She stood and walked over to Lena abruptly, giving her a short but unexpected hug. Lena had barely gotten out of her chair in time, but she responded just the same, squeezing Kara’s shoulder like she always did. They had only just reached the spontaneous hugging phase, and maybe Kara was pushing the boundaries a little, but at the very least, she thought that Lena deserved to know that she was cared for, especially during the holidays. 

Murmured goodbyes were exchanged, and soon Kara was out the door, whistling a cheery tune that she hoped would get Jess in a better mood. She should probably start buying that woman coffee, unless she wanted to endure her downright wintery glare well into the summer.

…

By the time the holidays and her party had actually rolled around, Kara was too busy hanging up glittering decorations and frosting cookies to fret over the state of her guest list. She didn’t even know if her own sister could make it— the DEO had been hectic over the past few days, and Alex was personally embroiled in a grueling case that, even once it was solved, required hours of paperwork. They hadn’t had much of a conversation other than Supergirl flying by, dropping off coffee and a kiss on the forehead to her older sister, who was stuck in her cramped office rather than out in the field. 

A knock came on the door, when Kara was halfway between putting the ham into the oven and taking the last batch of cookies out, debating if she should just use her hands instead of trying to find the oven mitts that Alex had bought her as a gag. Joke or not, the embroidered puppies dancing up and down the fabric were adorable, and Kara used them just because she could. 

“Just a second!” she called out in the direction of the door, knowing that the combination of her beeping oven and the loud Christmas music she had playing from a speaker would make anything she said hard to hear. It was friendly however— a courtesy, and it reminded her of afternoons in Midvale, being welcoming of whoever wandered to their back porch. It was a small town, after all. Eliza and Jeremiah knew the entire town, and were friends with what seemed like the whole county.

(Good practice, for a girl learning to appear All-American when she couldn’t be further from.)

She ended up jogging towards the door, opening it without glancing at who was standing on the welcome mat. Her glasses were dusted with flour, as was her hair and the topmost layer of her clothes. Kara was too preoccupied with trying to use a dish towel to clean her glasses to notice anything. Still, when she finally looked up and jumped what felt like five feet back, it felt like nothing could have prepared her for the sight in front of her.

Needless to say, Kara didn’t expect Lena to be the first one to show up.

She was an hour early in fact, there before even Eliza arrived, who usually was the first person anywhere, always willing to accept a cup of tea, roll up her sleeves, and help with whatever needed helping. Peeking over Lena’s shoulder, Eliza was nowhere in sight. 

Lena was, however, very much there, standing in front of her with a giant bouquet of flowers, a very expensive looking handbag, and an outwardly frightened look on her face. Kara assumed that it was because she looked like the Abominable Snowman, and had just screamed a little at Lena’s surprise entrance.

“You came! And you’re here! Early!” Kara exclaimed, taking the bouquet with sugar coated fingers and watching as Lena jumped a little.

“Normal people don’t usually show up this early to social events, do they? I’m so sorry. Maybe this was a mistake.” Lena gulped and was halfway through the motion of turning around and catching the elevator when Kara reached out a hand and grabbed her elbow. A cloud of flour erupted from the point of contact, and Kara hoped that the sweater she had just ruined wasn’t ridiculously expensive.

“No no no! Lena, you’re fine, don’t leave!” Once Lena stopped shuffling her feet away from Kara’s open door, she let go of Lena’s sweater. “I can pay for your dry cleaning, by the way.”

“Kara,” she replied with a raised eyebrow, and that’s all she really needs to say. It was starting to become comical how many times Kara spaced out on the fact that Lena didn’t consider a dry cleaning bill to be even remotely important. “It’s just a sweater.” She looked back up and took a closer look at her surroundings, including the pitiful state of Kara’s appearance. “Is that… icing in your hair, or blood?”

Lena was only half joking, and Kara brought a hand up to her hairline, feeling something dried and sticky. She brought her fingers back to her mouth, and was relieved to taste something sweet. “I was frosting Santa cookies,” she explained, and Lena only nodded, eyes fixated on Kara’s fingers. Her cheeks were turning pink, and Kara cursed herself for forgetting her manners. Lena had probably never licked frosting off her hand ever in her life, and here Kara was doing it without even thinking.

“Anyway,” she continued forward when Lena offered no response. “I’m happy you’re here, really! My apartment is just a mess right now, and you’ve obviously already become a victim of me being covered in baking ingredients, and I just want things to be perfect. I’m sorry if I came off as not wanting you here, because I really, really do. Thank you for coming, by the way.”

That same slow smile that always showed up on Lena’s face when Kara was in the midst of a babble of words was beaming on her face in full force, and it did wonders to relax Kara. Lena may be wealthy and affluent, but she wasn’t snooty. She wouldn’t turn up her nose at the tacky decorations taped to the walls— she would want to help put them up, and probably make the entire setup more structurally sound. That was why her and Kara fit so well together.

“Don’t thank me for coming, Kara, not when it was you who so kindly invited me. I’m glad I’m here. Now,” she said, rolling up her sleeves and looking at Kara a little nervously for encouragement. “What can I do to help?”

“Well,” Kara said, looking around and trailing off long enough that Lena had to fight off a giggle. She wasn’t exaggerating when she said her apartment was a disaster— Supergirl had had fights with five aliens that caused less structural damage than this. “Only because you asked, let’s give you something to do. I would be a bad host if I bored you to death. How are your gift wrapping skills?” 

(There was already a gift for Lena hidden away under Kara’s bed. Something about it made Kara want to wrap that one herself. It was special and Kara had agonized over what to get for weeks, and now that Lena had shown up, Kara would get the satisfaction of delivering it in person.)

“It’s just math, right? I can handle some simple geometry,” Lena said, a teasing lilt to her voice that assured Kara that she was becoming less anxious by the second. If she could make sure Lena felt even a sliver of the love and pride that Kara had for her, then hopefully the holidays wouldn’t be so bad for Lena.

(Hopefully, if all went well, Kara would get to spend many, many more holidays with her.)

“Alright, Pythagoras. Let’s see what you got.” Kara whacked a smirking Lena on the head with a tube of wrapping paper, and then crossed over to the radio. She turned up the holiday music, already singing along, and got back to her cookie situation. 

Somehow, with Lena here, the hours passed quickly, without Kara checking the clock or fighting off the illogical fear that no one would want to spend the holidays with her. Lena was here, and that was all Kara needed. They worked in easy, companionable silence, and Kara nearly forgot that there were other people invited.

That is, until Eliza came bustling through the unlocked door and Kara could hear Lena gasp even through the overwhelming sound of the mixer.

“Kara, honey? Come help me with these bags, will you?” Eliza was making her way towards the kitchen half blind, huffing and puffing and barely holding onto a towering pile of grocery bags that blocked her vision. She didn’t see Lena at all in the living room corner— though the fact that the younger woman had practically shrunk into the carpet helped. “Lord knows that you should be the one carrying all the bags, seeing as I’ve seen you lift an entire-”

“Eliza!” Kara cried out, cutting her off just in time with a quick peck on the cheek and whisking her away before she could accidentally spoil Kara’s biggest secret. “Let me make you some coffee. Oh!” she calls out over the steaming pot, feigning surprise even if there was no way she could ever forget about Lena, getting shakily to her feet. “There’s someone I’d like you to meet. Believe it or not, you aren’t the first person to arrive for the holidays this year.”

“That’s nice dear,” Eliza says distractedly, wrangling her way out of the very long and very thick scarf that Kara had knit for her two winters ago. “I’m glad you’ve had some company. I know how lonely you tend to get during-” 

She stopped once she realized that said company was very much there in the room and that the person Kara wanted her to meet was Lena Luthor, who was wringing her hands behind her back but mustering up the most polite smile she could manage.

The room stilled, and Kara honestly couldn’t imagine who had a more embarrassing face— her, with her ears flaming red at Eliza’s casual hinting at of something extremely private and sensitive, Eliza, who was staring open mouthed at this new woman, or Lena, who was hovering between raw terror and the professionalism that had been hammered into her from a young age. The result was a nervous grimace of a smile, and her eyes kept flitting between Eliza and Kara, lingering on the way Kara was clearly not handling this interaction well either.

“Mom, this is Lena. Lena, this is my adoptive mom, Eliza Danvers.” Kara gestured between the two of them weakly and held her breath. Eliza wasn’t suspicious or outwardly hostile towards people like Alex was, but she was fiercely protective. Kara knew without a doubt that Eliza raised her as one of her own, which meant that she would dole out judgements as she saw fit. Though there was no reason to dislike Lena for anything other than her last name, Kara was aware of just how good the name of Luthor was at bringing out people’s base instincts. 

She knew Eliza was kind down to every bone in her body, and she really needed that goodness to shine if the night was to go smoothly.

“Lena Luthor?” Eliza asked. She didn’t say Lena’s name the way most people did. There was still weight behind it, an acknowledgement of sorts of how significant of a name it was, but there was no malice. In fact, there was nothing other than thinly masked enthusiasm, and if Kara didn’t know any better she’d wonder if Eliza and Lena had already met before.

“Hello, Dr. Danvers. Kara has told me so much about you,” Lena said, stilted but not insincere.

“Kara, don’t you realize who this is?” Eliza asked, spinning towards her daughter, and the room froze once again, until it was broken by Eliza practically squealing with excitement. Kara blinked, taking in the scene in disbelief. Her mother did not get this visibly passionate about anything, ever, except for… 

“This is the woman who’s going to cure cancer!” Eliza finished with a proud, beaming smile, as if Lena had just gotten her spelling test pinned up on the refrigerator. She strode forward and extended a hand to Lena, who took it gratefully. She looked somewhere past shock and further towards shyness, but she had a tiny smile on her face as well. Eliza shook her hand with both of her own, and held on as she looked Lena in the eye. “Please, call me Eliza. I’ve read at least a dozen of your papers, and I’d read them all if I had any hope of understanding them. Maybe Kara has told you, but my specialty in bio-engineering, and I was amazed when I heard about your work on regenerative healthy tissue. It could change chemotherapy and radiation recovery forever.”

“Thank you, Dr. Danvers. I’m flattered by the compliment, but I’m afraid that I’m not that impressive. Most of my work resides in the theoretical side of things, not practical.” Lena snuck a glance at Kara, who was grinning at the both of them. She’d always had to pretend not to understand much whenever Lena talked about science, but now that Eliza was here, Lena could really bounce her ideas off of someone.

“Nonsense!” Eliza argued back. “Your ideas are what matter, and take it from a woman who’s been in the field for a long time— they truly are remarkable. You are a bright young mind, and I have a feeling you’re going to change the world.”

“For the better, I hope.”

“I have no doubt about that,” Eliza mused, giving Lena one last kind smile before turning to Kara. “She’s wonderful. You’ve really lucked out this time, I think,” she said with a wink, and because it was loud enough that Lena heard and had to fight off another blush, Kara had no doubt that it was intentional. Eliza had always had a way of making sure everyone felt welcome for who they were, and if she could raise an alien, Lena Luthor would be a part of the family by the time the ball dropped on New Years.

“Enough talk!” Eliza said, clapping her hands and jerking Kara out of her strange haze of humility and affection towards her adoptive mother. “I’ll have to save my questions for later, Lena dear.” Lena was in a trance of her own, made worse by Eliza’s term of endearment, but she managed a dazzling smile anyway. “First, I need to make sure  _ someone  _ doesn’t have to call the fire department when they cook the turkey.”

“One time!” Kara grumbled, trailing after her and doing her best to look offended even if that comment brought an easy laugh slipping out of Lena’s mouth. “That was  _ one _ time. And now you have to bring it up every year?”

“All part of a mother’s duty, I’m afraid.” Eliza batted her hand away from the dwindling pile of unfrosted cookies, and sent her across the kitchen. “Now start cutting up the potatoes before I show your new friend some of my favorite photos of you and your sister growing up.”   
  


“That’s blackmail, Eliza!” Kara gasped, pretending to be shocked. She dutifully stood next to the cutting board anyway, but looked over at Lena, who was still idling over by the front door. “Lena, back me up here!”

“Don’t be a baby, Kara.” Lena’s shoulders seemed to finally lose their rigidity, and at Kara’s silent invitation, she joined her by the potatoes. “Besides,” she said, just loud enough for Kara to hear. “If we’re comparing felony offenses, I think that my mother has yours beat.”

(Normally, Kara wouldn’t laugh at that. But this was Lena Luthor whispering in her ear. Lena Luthor, who always laughed freely at the worst of Kara’s puns, was never in too bad of a mood to at least smile at Kara’s crazy, endearing antics, and who had the most wicked sense of humor. The more she got to know her, and the more times that Lena lowered her inhibitions around her, the more Kara realized that Lena Luthor could make any joke in the world, and Kara would laugh, simply because it was her.)

Lena’s eyes were twinkling, and she had a proud, satisfied little smirk on her face like she knew she had just beat Kara to a punchline, and Kara couldn’t help it. She laughed suddenly, snorted really, in such an unexpected and genuine way that Eliza turned around with a raised brow.

“Kara Danvers,” she teased, as Kara tried to contain the rest of her giggles. “I haven’t heard you laugh like that since you were little.” She studied the two of them now, watched the way Lena jostled Kara with her hip, how Kara threatened to smear more frosting on Lena’s sweater. There was a glint in her eye suddenly, like she knew something they didn’t.

“I’m so happy you’re joining us for the holidays, Lena,” she finished, putting the turkey in the oven with that same quirk of her lips. “I hope that this will be the first of many.”

(Eliza liked her. Kara knew that, and more importantly, she thought that Lena understood that too. Kara had also been nervous for Lena and Eliza to meet, for some reason. Lena was a friend. But she was her best friend, and best friends need to get along with extended family, right? That must have been it.) 

The others joined the festive atmosphere one by one, but any negativity or open antagonism towards Lena led by Alex or James was warded off by the sheer intensity of Eliza’s warmth, so much so that Kara doubted whether or not Lena even picked up on the hint of tension in the air. Her and Eliza sat across from each other during dinner and stayed there long after, heads bowed and discussing the gritty, technical details of both of their work. Kara observed, still a little nervously, from her perch on the couch, her eyes straining to catch Lena’s face light up enough times that Alex smacked her with a pillow.

“Chill out, Kara,” Alex said, her voice tumbling and loose like she was half ways towards being drunk. Maggie was by her side, and for two members of law enforcement who Kara had argued with over the Luthor family, they seemed unbothered by Lena’s presence. Kara wasn’t sure if she should thank the alcohol or make sure that it wasn’t drugged, because Alex never welcomed newcomers with open arms. “If you crane your neck much further, there won’t be a chiropractor on the planet that will be able to fix it.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Kara evaded, bringing her attention back to her handful of Uno cards as if her sister hadn’t just caught her red-handed. She nodded towards Alex’s stack of cards, which made up at least half of the deck. “You’re the one that should be keeping your eyes on the prize.”

Her sister rolled her eyes as Maggie snorted on the other side, entirely unhelpful. “You know I prefer poker. Besides, at least I’m not trying to eavesdrop from across the apartment.”

“I am not eavesdropping!” Kara protested. Across the table, she saw Winn try to sneak some of his cards under the table, as if that would hide the fact that just like Alex, he was dismal at Uno. She sent a raised eyebrow his way, and Winn blushed scarlet, mumbling a curse and taking more cards from the pile as penance. “I’m just… being a good host, is all. I want to make sure that everyone enjoys the night.”

“If you’re worried about Luthor not having a good time, I wouldn’t be,” Maggie piped up. “I heard from a buddy that works security that she isn’t much of a partier, despite what the tabloids think. He said that she even leaves her own events early.”

“Yeah,” Alex agreed. “I can’t believe that I’m the one trying to reassure you about Lena Luthor, but what really matters is that she showed up, and she’s still here. And,” she added, looking over at Eliza, who had brought out a piece of scratch paper and was watching Lena sketch something out, completely enraptured. “Somehow, mom is as obsessed as you are-”

“-not obsessed! We’re friends!”

“Whatever you say. But you know mom. If we let her, she’ll talk about science until she runs out of oxygen. Not that I can blame her actually. Like it or not, Lena Luthor is a genius, and I would love to pick her brain.”

Kara couldn’t decide if that was a veiled threat or a begrudging compliment, but she cautiously chose to assume the latter. “Admit it: you don’t hate her. She’s smart, and cool, and funny, and not to mention badass, and she is so determined-”

“Jesus, Kara, I’m not going to give her the Medal of Honor,” Alex interrupted, as Maggie leaned forwards and gave Kara a strange, hard to define look, like Kara had just perked her interest. “You’re right. I don’t hate her—” she held up her hand and silenced Kara before she could begin to celebrate— “But that doesn’t mean I like her, either. I still don’t trust her…”

“Alex,” Kara warned, not wanting to get into this fight on a night that was supposed to be free of conflict.

“I’m your big sister. I’m supposed to watch your back. Sorry, but it’s gonna take more than one turkey dinner and your optimism to convince me that Lena is nothing like her family. But… you care about her, and she’s going to be around whether I like it or not, so I’m learning to deal.” 

She crossed her arms as she finished, and Kara was just impressed that she cut herself off before it spun into a full-blown lecture. It wasn’t the answer that she wanted, but she knew that it was the best that Alex could give right now. It was enough, at least, for the holidays. 

It was enough to know that the family she’d found when she first came to Earth was open to Kara finding another person to add to it.

(Later, when everybody else had left and Eliza elected to use Alex’s spare room instead of Kara’s couch, Kara gave Lena her gift. It was just a photo album, leather bound and not yet broken in. It was mostly empty, too, though Kara had managed to sneak in a few photos that she’d been collecting over the past few months. The intention wasn’t to prove that they had such a special relationship already— it was Kara’s way of telling Lena that she’d like to. Kara would fill up that entire album with memories, as long as Lena wanted her to.

Something about the way that Lena carefully paged through it and cradled it against her chest with a small, hopeful smile made Kara think that Lena would like nothing more. 

She told Kara years later that it was the best gift that she’d ever received, that the jewelry and the riches and the other tokens handed to her by the elites wanting to gain her favor meant nothing to that album.

They’d only filled it up about halfway before everything came crashing down around them.)

… 

Meeting Lillian was a different matter altogether. 

Kara had met Lena’s mother before, of course; being Supergirl meant that she and the leader of CADMUS, reformed or not, crossed paths often. Lillian… was one of the scariest threats Kara had ever faced— she had robbed Kara of her powers and stolen her blood, was responsible for Jeremiah’s disappearance and for the creation of Metallo, and had captured the people that Kara loved on more than one occasion, her own daughter included.

Perhaps most terrifying of all was the fact that Lillian Luthor knew who she was. Lillian knew that Kara Danvers— meek, unassuming reporter and her daughter’s best friend, was an alien, was  _ Supergirl. _

What was worse was the fact that Lillian knew, yet she didn’t tell Lena. Instead she bore witness to the worst lie that Kara had ever told, and waited for it to blow up in Kara’s face.

(“Eventually… she’ll find out that you’ve been lying to her all this time,” Lillian had told her in the Fortress of Solitude, the look in her eyes cold even to Kara, eyes that calculated and schemed and knew the best ways to hurt someone. “And when she does? She’ll hate you for it.”)

Lena not knowing Kara’s secret while her mother did complicated every interaction Kara had with the two of them together, which is why Kara Danvers had never met Lillian in any way. She preferred it that way— every second that Supergirl spent with Lillian was already unbearable, and it would be no different as Kara Danvers, especially with Lillian sending her cruel, knowing gazes and making innocent comments that Lena brushed off but cut Kara deep.

Besides, it wasn’t like Lena  _ wanted  _ Lillian and Kara in the same room together; her mother was a homicidal maniac who had hurt people for lesser reasons than to get under the skin of her daughter, and as always, Lena felt a need to protect Kara from that part of her life. Lillian wasn’t the Thanksgiving dinner type. Kara knew that, and both she was perfectly fine with it.

Kara had assumed that she would never personally meet Lillian Luthor, but then… Morgan Edge happened. Edge showed up and spat on Lena’s name, tried to sabotage her reputation, and nearly succeeded in getting her killed. He was a despicable, pitiful excuse for a human being, and worst of all in her eyes, he was obsessed with causing pain. Kara would’ve flung him into the ocean herself if she didn’t have a moral code to uphold.

Which was why, in a strange way, Kara understood why Lillian Luthor came out of hiding to try and get revenge on the man who was harming her daughter.

Lena and Lillian’s relationship was a complicated one, and Kara knew that even that was an incredible understatement. It was a constant battle between the two of them, and one of contrast. Lena hated Lillian, had been cast aside by her, had spent years knowing that she would never be the favorite, and yet she still craved her approval. And Lillian was the same way. She was a monster, and had never been a good mother to Lena, but in her own way, she did care for her. At least enough to protect her from someone like Morgan Edge.

Fortunately for Edge, her idea of protection was his murder, something that Kara felt obligated to prevent no matter how much she hated him.

Lena helped Kara like always. They went to Edge’s party together, Lena wearing a gorgeous dress that Kara found herself unable to look away from. And then Lillian showed up in an old Lexosuit prototype and Kara leapt into action, slipping away from Lena amidst the chaos and putting a stop to the attack as Supergirl. By the time she had flown back to the ground and hurriedly changed back into her dress and heels, Lillian had been handcuffed by Lena and was being collected by the NCPD.

Later, as Lillian was hauled away, she paused by Kara’s side, who was still trying to tame her hair and wrestle her glasses on without breaking them. Kara looked around with a sinking feeling for Lena, and breathed a sigh of relief when she found her in the corner, giving a statement to the police and not noticing the fact that her mother was face to face with her best friend.

“I finally know one good thing that will come from my daughter being so close to you,” Lillian said, and Kara drew in a breath, knowing that whatever was coming was meant to sting. “Lena thinks she is better than the rest of us because she loves people. Because she believes in people’s ability to be good and kind and honorable. She believes in  _ liars _ like you. ”

“Lena  _ is  _ better than the rest of you,” Kara replied quietly, refusing to draw attention to herself but also refusing to back down. “And it isn’t because of what she believes, or who she loves. It’s because of who she is— she is the best of everything that she hopes people to be.”

Lillian narrowed her eyes and scoffed, and Kara knew that her words held very little weight when the nature of her secret lay between them. “You two deserve each other,” she concluded at last, giving Kara one last once over. “We both know that this can’t last forever, and when it comes crashing down… well. You’re going to break each other’s hearts.”

She was escorted away by two officers after that, being guided into the back of a squad car still with that cold, haughty smirk on her face, like she knew what those parting words meant and what they did to Kara. A terrible, confident theory; it wouldn’t be Lillian who dealt the worst blow to Lena, or Morgan Edge, or even Lex, but Kara.

(It was the thought that someday and sometime soon, Lena would put Kara’s name next to theirs that killed.)

“Hey,” Lena said, reaching her side and sounding a little breathless. The hem of her dress had a scorch mark in it, and her hair had lost its polished look, but Lena still looked beautiful. They watched the police pull away together, and Lena took a deep breath and let the tension bleed out of her shoulders. When she turned back towards Kara, she looked so young and trusting that Kara wanted to cry. No one could ever deserve someone like Lena, and Kara was starting to realize that she didn’t either. “Are you alright? I got so caught up in trying to stop my mother that I lost you in the confusion.”

“Everything’s great,” Kara answered from beneath a lump in her throat, because everything that Lillian said was true. Lena smiled across at her like she was everything decent in this world, and Kara didn’t even have the courage to tell her that she was hedging her bets on the wrong person. She wasn’t even from this world, but Lena took her arm and got them each a flute of champagne and Kara knew she had to keep on pretending. This was her best friend in the world, and Kara would play the part for as long as she could.

(She should have realized then that it was a tragedy being written for the two of them.)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To whoever is still reading this-
> 
> These past few days and weeks have been a whirlwind for everyone, myself included, and I finally got back in the right headspace to update this story. Now that I'm at home, I hope that with online class, I will have more time to work on this. Thank you very much for your patience, and for all of the incredible comments. Know that they mean the world to someone who is just starting out.
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

_Don't sigh and gaze at me,_   
_Your sighs are so like mine._   
_Your eyes mustn't glow like mine,_   
_People will say we're in love!_

As much as Kara wished that it wasn’t so, part of what made Lena so magnetic to her was because they were so alike. Not in the ways that were usually considered important; Kara was bright and overeager compared to Lena’s careful excitement, loud and passionate versus Lena’s quick, pointed defense of what she believed in. They were both intelligent, sure, but Lena knew how to use her knowledge within the system, knew to take advantage and rise high enough that people had to take her seriously. Kara missed the honor roll more often than not because she was too busy learning how to act and talk and dress, and was too consumed with being a regular human to try and excel intellectually. It was too much of a risk, Jeremiah had told her, so Kara kept her head down and made sure that she was perfectly average, while Lena was taught that in the Luthor family, being average just wasn’t acceptable.

Down to their very biology, Kara and Lena were worlds apart, and yet Kara had never met someone who reminded her so much of herself in the quiet moments.

Maybe it was Lena’s delicate, trembling fingers. Or the way that Lena had so many ghosts from her past, as many as any human could bear. Maybe it was the way that Lena put her life on the line first and before all others, just like Kara, except she didn’t have any powers. She didn’t have a failsafe, or a way of knowing that she would come out unscathed, but she threw herself into danger anyways, as if she didn’t know any other way. 

Sorrow found the both of them too young, and it never went away. Maybe Kara felt so drawn to the other woman because Lena’s sadness and her own were brushed together— complimentary colors on some tragic, beautiful tapestry, and far be it from Kara to deny that kind of connection. 

Whatever the case, Lena— with her sad green eyes and small, aching smiles— was begging for someone who understood her too. Lena, who had been solitary all her life, who had been abandoned too many times to take much stock in genuine loyalty, and who had resolved herself to looking at life with brick walls around her heart, took Kara in against all odds. There might have been reluctance at first, more than enough of it to turn away most people. But Kara had kept pushing because she knew that this was someone who was going to be important. At the time, she didn’t know how important, but Lena must have known too, because she took down her walls and her barriers and her defenses and Kara came crashing in. 

Once she did, they all but collided.

… 

“So, was it awful?” Kara asked Lena, in between bites of a donut from her favorite bakery.

She’d arrived at LCorp that night with the bag full of frosted treats and such a determined smile that Jess had let her pass without so much as one icy look. Maybe she knew that her boss desperately needed a pick-me-up. Lillian Luthor’s trial had been in the news for weeks, and that day, Lena had been asked to testify against her— and, for those still unconvinced over her story, expected to prove that she had nothing to do with Medusa. Kara was thinking of testifying herself— as Supergirl of course. Having a Super vouch for a Luthor would be a powerful display of support, and Kara would do it in a heartbeat if Lena needed it.

It may have only been a few months into their friendship, but Kara felt ready to do just about anything for the other woman, as Kara Danvers or Supergirl. She believed in Lena with all of her heart, even if the rest of her friends remained dubious.

Lena held her donut delicately in her hands, careful not to rub any frosting on her work clothes. She considered Kara’s question for a moment; perhaps she was still harboring doubts over how true their relationship really was. But Kara sat next to her on the couch and stared at Lena with a welcoming, undemanding expression, and something in Lena crumbled.

“No. It actually felt good to testify,” she said, and the small, relieved upturn to her lips helped Kara believe it. “I got to say my piece, and finally distance myself from the Luthor name…” Her grin turned acerbic. “And then I came back here to 12 calls from her lawyers.” Lena stared down into her lap. “Yeah. She wants to see me.”

“What do you think she wants?” Kara asked, keeping herself neutral even though the thought of Lillian still trying to get her claws into Lena made her see red. If she was Supergirl right now, she’d offer protection, or a guarantee of safety, but she was just Kara— and Kara was Lena’s only friend at the moment. The best thing she could do was to listen.

Lena gave a sardonic little chuckle. “Probably to tell me that my outfit in court was horrible and that I need a makeover,” she replied easily, almost casually, like she was used to the kind of barbed insults that Lillian threw. Kara had to take another bite of her donut to hide her frown. Lena shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t know and I don’t care. I just… thought I was done with her, you know— I’d finally shut the door on being a Luthor. And then there she was, back on my phone sheet…”

“Twelve times,” Kara finished, getting a quiet laugh out of Lena.

A comfortable silence grew, and Lena took in a deep breath, looking like she was trying to convince herself to say something. Kara knew that expression; she’d worn it plenty of times before, always doubting what to say and who to say it to. The last thing Kara ever wanted was to put a burden on someone else, to cause another person trouble just because of what she was thinking or feeling. It seemed like Lena operated in a similar way.

Eventually Lena sighed, tilting her head and searching Kara’s eyes. “You don’t think I should feel guilty for not wanting to go see that monster, right?”

Kara paused. Really, the only thing that mattered was what _Lena_ wanted, not anyone else. She was humbled enough that Lena had thought to seek out her advice, her reassurance. “Well,” she said thoughtfully, “Do you think you would find peace of mind by visiting her and telling her how you really feel?”

“Even if I did, it wouldn’t make a difference,” Lena replied lowly. “She’s been the same way since the day I met her.”

When she looked back up, Kara realized just how unsure Lena was about all of this. Lena’s desire to love and to be loved in turn was so strong it seemed to burn from within, and Kara could see the shadows of that flame slanting out from tired eyes. She looked small. Sad, even— still that orphaned girl wanting to find a new family, wanting to do anything possible to please them. Wanting, more than anything else, to not get abandoned again. 

Kara knew the feeling.

It was her turn to glance away from Lena, fiddling with the rim of her glasses and wondering if Lena could see that same kind of pain in her own eyes, or if the glare from the glasses shielded her from that kind of vulnerability. She wondered what Lena thought of her, this strange girl who sometimes took on that same ache. Maybe she could see her own eyes mirrored in Kara’s.

It struck her then, how young they both were. It was evident in the way that they danced around each other— a vulnerable mix of awe and earnestness, like they were still learning how to live but wanted to do it to the fullest, because they knew what happened otherwise. They were so wretchedly young compared to what they’d survived. Sitting on this couch were two titans in their own right— a superhero, the strongest being on the planet, and a genius CEO, just trying to do good. Her and Lena were possibly two of the most powerful people alive, but right now, they were just kids, seeking solace from a best friend.

“I’ve spent most of my life wishing I could talk to people that are no longer here,” Kara said at last, wearing that old, familiar grief like a cape around her shoulders. Lena stayed silent, gazing over at Kara in a way that made her heart skip. It was tender, and sympathetic, but more than that— Kara knew Lena understood. “She’s still here,” she said, smiling back in that sad way that Lena always did. “And she’s still your mom.”

Lena nodded, biting the side of her mouth like she was rolling around what Kara said in her mind. “Yeah,” she agreed. “I think you might be right.”

With everything that happened after, Kara felt guilty for encouraging Lena to go visit Lillian. It had gotten her framed for a crime after all, and thrown into jail, forced to become a fugitive and give her mother and Hank Henshaw access to the worst of Lex’s projects. Kara couldn’t help but feel like maybe it was her fault that Lena had gotten wrapped up in this.

It was why when she came back to Catco the next day, her head hung low even though she had proven her best friend’s innocence, she was fully prepared to apologize for pushing Lena into doing something that had caused the both of them such pain. But instead, she stumbled upon an office full of flowers and a handwritten note. _Thank you for being there for me_ , it said, and later, when Lena invited Kara over to her office, she hadn’t been mad.

“I’ve never had friends like you before,” Lena said, head shaking and eyes wide, like she was still finding it hard to believe. “Come to think of it, I’ve never had family like you. No one has ever stood up for me like that.” Kara blushed, because Lena, who had just been betrayed, and kidnapped, and hurt by her own mother— who had every right to lose all faith in the people around her— still looked at Kara as if she was the sun.

For someone who only knew one side of her, Lena Luthor had a knack for making Kara feel whole. 

“Now, you have someone that will stand up for you. Always.” _I know you_ , Kara really meant to say. _I know you better than you may think._

Based on the soft way Lena smiled over at her, Kara thought that maybe Lena understood her too.

“Well. Supergirl may have saved me,” she had said, head tilted and voice low in a way that made Kara’s head feel dizzy. “But, you, Kara Danvers, you are my hero.”

It wasn’t often that anyone told Kara that, not when her alter ego stood so tall and so proud. She loved being Supergirl, but sometimes, Kara wondered whether or not regular, plain Kara Danvers meant much of anything to anyone. All she wanted was to mean something to someone— no matter if she was wearing the cape or not.

Yeah, she decided as she wrapped the other woman into a tight hug. Lena might understand her better than most. 

… 

Lena didn’t ask much about Kara’s parents. She wanted to, Kara knew— she could tell by the way that Lena would lean forwards when Kara made some vague allusion to her past, or told a story that left a bad taste in her mouth. Lena would always draw in a breath but let it hang there in between, never taking that plunge forward, and Kara couldn’t decide if she was grateful for the restraint or not. 

It had always been a delicate process, talking about her past. With circumstances like hers it was hard enough to talk about loss of that magnitude, but seeing as Kara was also human in the eyes of most people, she couldn’t talk about it in its full truth. She couldn’t talk about how the ground had cracked open as her parents said goodbye, or the smell of smoke and iron in her mother’s hair, or how Kara’s knees were pressed uncomfortably against the sides of her pod. She couldn’t talk about how now, she felt so guilty about focusing on such an insignificant detail as cramping legs, not when she got to fly away— not when Rao swallowed everyone else up whole.

The Danvers and Kal-El had helped create a story for her once she landed on earth, to explain away some of the odd things about her. A car crash, killing her parents as well as her aunt and uncle. Kara was the sole survivor. It was tragic enough for people to understand why this little girl looked so unspeakably sad, but vague enough that most follow up questions could be waved aside. Kara had gotten so good at walking that line over her years here on Earth that sometimes, she could almost convince herself. That is, until the whole truth, with its brutal, inescapable pain, jolted Kara out of the fantasy she’d made a home in.

Those were the worst days.

Alex understood, or at least understood as much as it was possible to. Her sister was there on those nights where Kara couldn’t breathe and couldn’t sleep and couldn’t see anything but the way her _whole world_ had broken apart from within itself, fragmenting and scattering its blood and ashes to every corner of the universe. Alex was always there, with a blanket that six people could’ve fit under, a full box of microwave popcorn and the strength to listen as Kara talked, as she tried to communicate how broken everything was.

And while Kara knew that Alex was all she’d ever need, it wasn’t all that Kara wanted. What Kara wanted, more than anything, was for Lena to know. Because Lena Luthor might be one of the few people in Kara’s life who could truly understand the kind of pain that she felt.

They’d both lost their parents— had both watched the people they loved die, and carried the remorse that came with surviving. They’d both been brought to a world that couldn’t be more different than their old home, and were forced to adjust accordingly. Their last names both held a burden of responsibility; Kara had learned the hard way that her parents were not the same people she’d been mourning in her idealized memories, while Lena had been given a new name and inherited its sins. They each stood in the wreckage of their pasts and were now trying to decide how to carry on.

Kara knew all this, could see the silvery line binding the two of them together. She knew how familiar Lena’s ghosts were to her own.

But Lena didn’t.

Obviously the other woman wasn’t clueless— while not well-versed in maintaining the strong, long-lasting relationships that Kara was so used to, Lena knew how to read a room; she’d had Kara pegged from the moment they’d met, and the scattered comments and the stiff way Kara held herself when she talked about life before the Danvers’ was enough to give her a picture, however blurry, of the trauma that Kara hid. What set Lena apart from any other person who’d tried to poke and prod at Kara’s past until she realized it was more out of morbid curiosity than genuine empathy was the fact that Lena _didn’t_ poke. She seemed to sense Kara’s general skittishness around the topic, and had simply left it alone.

It certainly made things easier. One less thing to actively lie about, Kara supposed, even if this was one of the things she wasn’t sure if she _wanted_ to lie about.

Lena was so easy to talk to that sometimes, Kara wanted to tell her everything.

Still, even if she kept her distance around that topic, Lena couldn’t stop herself from checking in on Kara. It was usually when cracks could be seen in Kara’s act— when tight smiles couldn’t quite cover up the gaping hole made by whatever memory that had been dredged up, or when no amount of sunlight could rid her face of the long shadows that crossed it.

Other times, Kara swore that Lena could just look at her face and know what was wrong.

Like the week after New Year’s, when Lena had just met Eliza during that holiday season and had been welcomed into the family— at least by Kara and her adoptive mother. Now that the holidays were winding down, Kara found herself in the melancholic mood that usually came with this time of year. Eliza had mentioned it casually to Lena, much to Kara’s mortification; she did get lonely, especially after spending so much time with the people she loved.

Loneliness was really only part of it.

Sometimes, Kara found herself waiting for the other shoe to drop. It had been even worse during high school, when she had finally started to feel like she was a part of the Danvers family. She loved them, and they loved her, and the last time Kara had felt this way about anything, she had lost Krypton. She’d watched everything she’d ever cared about burn up in front of her eyes, and Kara’s biggest fear was that she’d have to do it again. 

So at her holiday parties, when she invited people on a whim, and just wanted to see as many people that she loved as possible, it was as terrifying as it was comforting for her. The family that she’d found was all together, no matter what chaos was currently wreaking havoc on their lives. For at least a day or two, they were there, and Kara got to drink in the scene; she got to remind herself that they were still here, even if Krypton was not. She got to watch James and Winn talk on the couch all night, making jokes and telling stories in between rounds of charades. Alex and J’onn always sat next to each other at dinner, an unspoken tradition. Eliza rescued the ham or the turkey with what Kara called her own superpowers, and now, Lena was included in Kara’s warmest memories— sitting across from her and sending her a shy, serene smile from over the basket of bread. It was bashful until Alex brought up some embarrassing memories from when they were kids and Lena turned sharp and teasing, magnetic in a way that Kara could never explain nor control her reaction to.

It wasn’t until the morning after that Kara would wake up and wonder if that was the last time she would ever see them.

Any number of things could happen to her new family. A car crash. A burning building. A disease that Kara couldn’t save them from, no matter what powers she had. Or maybe, even with her powers, Kara wouldn’t be enough. Maybe she’d have to watch as these people died anyways, even if she was Supergirl.

Maybe, it would be _because_ she was Supergirl.

It was one of the worst feelings in the world, being alone during those dark months of the year when the holiday rush had disappeared from her system and Kara was left with that same familiar terror. 

The knock on her door was a surprising jolt out of her stupor, to say the least. Kara was almost always alone after the holidays, especially now that Alex was dating Maggie. Between her new girlfriend and an increased workload at the DEO, Kara felt like she never saw her sister anymore. It stung more than she liked to admit, but she couldn’t bring it up. Alex had spent so much of her life focused on _Kara_ , dedicated to putting her little sister first. Kara was grateful for it, but had always wondered if she held Alex back from living her life; now that Alex was, Kara refused to give her guilt about it.

No matter her complicated feelings about Alex at the moment, Kara still assumed that it would be her at the door. But it wasn’t.

“Kara,” Lena said, clasping her hands tightly behind her back and rocking back on her heels. “I hope this isn’t too forward of me, but are you busy?”

Kara’s surprise gave way to a confused, beaming smile. “No,” she said, opening the door even wider. “Come on in!”

Lena let out a burst of air through her nose and when she stepped forwards, Kara saw that it was a grocery bag hidden behind her. Lena didn’t comment on it, just putting her head down and striding forwards to the kitchen counter, and Kara followed suit, closing the door behind them. She hadn’t ever pegged Lena Luthor for the supermarket kind of girl, but maybe even billionaires had errands to run.

“How are you?” she asked, moving towards her pantry and rifling around. “Would you like anything? Tea? Coffee? I think Alex may have hidden some brandy around here before Thanksgiving too, if you want to help me find it.”

“Tea would be lovely,” Lena responded absentmindedly, still staring at her lap and acting like she didn’t think she should be here. “And I’m doing well. Thank you again, for inviting me to spend time with you and your family.” She waited until Kara brought over two steaming mugs of tea before speaking again. “I think it might have been the best holidays I’ve ever spent.”

Kara grinned, pleased that Lena had had as good of a time as Kara would have hoped for. But then she remembered the darkness left in the wake of all that joy; she could picture Lena’s grave now, clear as day, next to all the others. She could see herself standing above them all, alone. 

(Always alone.)

The smile on her face must have faltered enough to be noticeable, because suddenly, her hand was taken by Lena’s. Kara’s eyes darted to meet Lena’s, startled. The other woman was still hesitating about _something_ — but she seemed to have crossed a point of no return, because when she met Kara’s gaze, she looked determined.

“I was adopted too, you know,” she said. Kara’s eyebrows raised; she’d known that— Clark had told her when she had asked him about the Luthor family. He’d never seemed sure about Lena Luthor, one way or the other. Still, even if Clark had told her, it was completely different for Lena to be sharing that now. “When I was four years old.”

“I was thirteen,” Kara said, grabbing hold of Lena’s invitation to talk about this topic and going along with it. Lena was her friend, and Kara wanted to share these things about herself anyways, no matter how new their friendship was. “I guess we have more in common than we thought.”

“Yes. It seems that we do.” Lena still studied her, her gaze so unrelenting that Kara was the one to look away. “Listen,” she said. “About the holidays. Eliza said something that I think was meant to be private—” Kara’s face blanched at even the mention of what Eliza had said— “But I heard it. And I’m sorry if this is overstepping, or if I just don’t understand how friendships work, but I wanted to make sure you were okay. If what your mom said was true.”

Kara opened her mouth and then closed it, caught completely off-guard by Lena’s boldness regarding her own well-being. She normally held these sorts of things close to her chest— and Lena did too. There was a reason that there was never anything in the papers about Lena’s personal life. She liked to keep it that way— after all, Kara was one of the few reporters who had been granted an interview with her... _ever_. That was why all of the tabloids and gossip rags were stirred into a frenzy if Lena even shared what kind of toppings she liked on her pizza.

She couldn’t say she blamed Lena for the secrecy. The last time a Luthor had welcomed themselves into the public limelight with open arms, he turned the sun red and left a crater in the middle of Metropolis. Lena was not Lex— not even close— but she would be connected to him for the rest of her life; she deserved to have a few walls built up around herself because of that.

That was why Kara could feel that this moment here— the two of them, fiddling with their tea bags and avoiding eye contact— was important for the both of them. For Lena because she was finally opening up to someone she had decided to trust, and for Kara? Well, if she was reading where Lena wanted this conversation to go, then Kara could gain a new confidant— one who might just understand the things about Kara that no one else did.

“Shit,” Lena said after a moment too long. She twisted the straps of her grocery bag tightly around her wrist and began to stand up. “I pushed too hard, didn’t I? Kara, I am _so_ sorry. I know better than anyone what it’s like to be private, and I’ve just completely invaded yours. I can go right now, and we never have to talk again if-”

“Lena, wait!” Kara said loudly, reaching out for Lena’s elbow and stopping the wheels that were turning much too fast in her head. “You didn’t do anything wrong. Please, stay.”

The other woman listened, and wordlessly returned to her perch at the counter. Her bag hit the ground with a heavy thud, and Kara couldn’t stop herself from glancing to see what was inside it. She saw chocolate, and unpopped bags of popcorn, and underneath it all, a new blanket, rolled so tightly that the seams of the bag threatened to burst.

She had traveled all the way across town to be with Kara, and she’d brought all of her favorite things. The rest of the city may have believed Lena Luthor to be a snobby, cold, bitch, or a ruthless genius intent on following her brother’s footsteps, but how could that be true? Most people didn’t think Lena Luthor was capable of even a genuine smile, but Kara knew better.

Lena Luthor had just made Kara feel loved, and that meant more than anything else.

To her surprise, Kara could feel her eyes growing misty, touched by Lena’s decision to come here and make sure she was okay, even if she thought it could ruin their friendship.

“What Eliza said was- _is_ true,” Kara started, grabbing her mug with both hands. She focused on swirling the steaming liquid around and around instead of looking up, because even though she wanted to talk to Lena about this, it still wasn’t easy. “This time of year isn’t the best for me.”

“But I thought you loved the holidays?” Lena asked, tilting her head and gazing at Kara even if she wasn’t ready to return it. “You were singing Christmas songs only a week or two after Halloween, and you just… I saw how much you shone at that party. Around all of those people.”

“I do love them,” Kara answered, laughing a little at the fact. “I’ve been crazy about them all my life. This city especially gets so beautiful during, with all of the lights, and the people… and I can’t forget about the food.” 

Lena cracked a smile at that. “But…” she trailed off, and Kara picked up on her cue.

“ _But_ … I think about my parents during the holidays. My birth parents.”

It was a simplified truth, her parents standing in for the entire planet, culture, and old life that she grieved. But it was the truth, as much as Kara could give, and the fact that it was out there between them now was a little terrifying. She didn’t talk about this with people. Not even Alex knew how deep this went, and now, Lena did. 

The other woman set down her mug, and tried to move her chair closer to Kara’s. If only the world could see Lena Luthor now— scooting across cheap hardwood in her fancy pencil skirt and perfectly done bun that she put up even if it was a Saturday night. The LCorp wasn’t high up in her ivory tower with her numbers and stocks, or hidden away and scheming in a lab. She certainly wasn’t partying the night away at an exclusive club, like certain tabloid outlets thought she did every night— not that Kara followed that type of news.

No, Lena was just a friend right now, trying to say the right thing. And yeah, Kara didn’t know everything about her— she didn’t know Lena’s favorite band, or ice cream flavor, or even where she lived— but she had an inkling that Lena was the type of person who rarely said the wrong thing.

Not when it really mattered.

Lena didn’t ask whether or not Kara wanted to talk about it. Based on how the conversation had gone, she seemed to realize that Kara did. All she did was wrap a hand around one of Kara’s wrists, look over with wide, kind green eyes, and ask, “What were they like?”

Just like that, Kara told her everything.

It was through the lens of her rehearsed, practiced story, of course, but Kara did her best to be honest. She told Lena all of the little things— the color of her mother’s eyes, her giant, sprawling library, the way she taught Kara the colors by watching the sunset. And her father, how smart he was, how he would make dinner every night, and bring home diagrams and models from work for Kara to look at. Her aunts and uncles, how Kal’s father had the most surprising laugh for someone so reserved. She talked about Astra. How much she loved her aunt, how she wanted to be just like her when she grew up.

(Kara didn’t mention what happened after.)

Telling Lena about Krypton was off the table, obviously, but Kara tried to capture its spirit. According to her and the Danvers’ story, she came from a tiny town far north of the border. She told Lena about how her home was famous in its area for science and law, for logic and reasoning— vague enough that Lena never made any inquiries into its location.

Lena let out a little chuckle, and Kara was pulled out of her memories. “Did I say something wrong?” she asked, hyper-aware of the balancing act she was attempting to pull off.

“No, not at all,” Lena answered, taking one last sip of her tea before pushing it aside. Kara’s had been finished long ago— how long had she been talking? “It’s just, your home seems cold… in more ways than one. Not that that’s a bad thing,” she amended. “You’re so bright, and warm, and so filled to the brim with life that it’s strange to hear where you grew up.”

Lena had a point. While Kara may have grown up on Krypton, her emotional nature would have been considered bizarre there, maybe even taboo. Except for her family. The House of El stood for hope on more than one planet, and Kara had been raised with that virtue in her bloodline.

But Lena wouldn’t— _couldn’t_ — understand that, so Kara thought about it some more. “That’s where the Danvers come in,” she decided at last, and even if it wasn’t a complete answer, it was still true. She may have always known what hope was supposed to be, but it was only because of Alex and the Danvers that she learned to lean on it again. “After the car crash, they taught me how to live again— how to be me. Ever since then, I’ve tried to do it as fully as possible.”

“Thank you, Kara. Telling me all that… I know how hard it is.” Lena squeezed the bones in Kara’s wrist ever so gently, as if she thought they could break. Something caught in Kara’s throat at the simple kindness in the gesture. “Do the holidays bring all those memories back?”

“Yes, but it’s more than that. It’s so easy to feel… alone, right now.” Kara took in a deep breath. “And I know that isn’t true. I’m not alone. I’m surrounded by all of these amazing, caring friends and family, but… it’s a reminder of everything I’ve lost before. And everything that I can lose again.”

It was as vulnerable as she was willing to get, as close as she could come to revealing the full extent of her fears without crossing that line. Kara knew that she couldn’t just tell people something as foreboding as the truth. What would she say to someone like Winn, or James? _Hey guys, did I look cool when I took down that Dominator the other night? By the way, I think about you dying constantly, about how painful it could be for me to fail to save you._

No. Kara wouldn’t bring that kind of darkness to anyone but herself.

There was a long moment’s silence. Normally, Kara would mark off the pause in their discussion as Lena being uncomfortable, or unsure what to say to Kara after what she’d said. But Lena wasn’t stiff; she didn’t look like she wanted to run. Instead, she’d leaned in closer; her bun had started to unravel, and the tips of her hair tickled the palm of Kara’s hand, where their fingers were still outstretched. She’d never noticed how long Lena’s hair was— how it lost most of its curl at the end of the day. 

Lena looked at Kara with what seemed like new eyes— like maybe, Kara had said something that she thought about too. Once more, Kara was left wondering how it was possible to feel so understood by a person she was still getting to know.

“I know what it’s like, waiting for everything to get taken away again. But here you are, still willing to love, and reach out, and take chances,” Lena said at last. “It’s hard, letting people in. It might be the scariest thing in the world, especially for someone who’s lost so much. And if that’s true, then you, Kara Danvers, might be one of the bravest people I’ve ever met.”

Kara couldn’t fight a blush from rising high on her cheeks anymore than she could stop herself from tearing up at the words. From anyone else, the sentiment could’ve come across as half-hearted, or forced. Designed to fit what they thought Kara wanted to hear. 

Yet, Kara knew Lena. She knew how hard it was for Lena to even agree to a cautious, fragile friendship in the first place, much less for her to find the nerve to show up to Kara’s holiday party. She knew that someone like Lena had as much of a hard history with loss and abandonment as anyone else on the planet, so hearing that Lena Luthor thought her brave? She wasn’t sure if she was more flattered or touched.

“Then you’re pretty courageous yourself,” she replied, poking Lena’s bicep and lightening the mood considerably when Lena laughed. “You showed up to an apartment full of strangers and shared mashed potatoes with them, off of a last-minute request, of all things. That takes guts.”

“Liquid courage, more like,” Lena shot back, and Kara bit her lip to hide the full grin that was threatening to split open her face. “No,” she said, when their laughter had died down. Her eyes still shone though, even as the apartment grew darker. “I did it for you, actually.”

“Really?”

“Don’t get too big of a head about it,” Lena teased, but then her voice grew softer. “I don’t know, Kara. I can’t for the life of me explain what it is about you, but…”

“But…?”

“ _But_ , you, Kara Danvers, make me feel brave.”

“Aww, geez,” Kara said, hiding her face in her hands as Lena laughed again. When she looked back, Lena was still staring, her lips just barely parted and hung in the softest smile Kara had ever seen. It was a smile that told Kara that she meant every word of what she said. “You didn’t have to say all that.”

“Yeah, I did. You’re not alone, Kara. I know that for certain.” Lena let out a sigh, and arched her eyebrow, sending one more penetrating gaze in Kara’s direction. “Now, how are you feeling? You okay?”

“Better now,” Kara admitted. “I forget how long I’ve kept some of that inside of me. It’s nice to have someone to talk to.”

“Well, that’s what friends are for— or so I’ve heard.” Lena sends her one last smile before leaning down, grabbing her bag and plopping it on the countertop with a thud. “I’ve also heard that candy and movies are great remedies for bad days. That is… if you don’t have any plans?”

If Lena hadn’t shown up at her door today, Kara would’ve spent the night alone. She would’ve gone and laid in her bed way too early, watching the shadows makes their way across her ceiling, unable to stop thinking. Or, she would’ve put on her suit and flown around National City for the rest of the night, fighting and helping and saving until the worst of it had passed.

Neither of those options were worth much of anything compared to what Lena was offering her now.

“None,” she announced, and Lena let go of the last of the breath she was holding in. “I would love to have a movie night with you. Though,” she said, sending Lena a teasing once over, “A night in with me requires a strict dress code, and I’m afraid you’re in violation.”

It held no bite, and Lena played along, a pleased grin flitting across her face before being replaced by a frown. She folded her arms and did her best to act how Kara imagined she did in the LCorp boardroom: haughty, and forceful, and unswayable. “What, exactly, is wrong with my clothes?”

Even though Kara knew it was all for fun, Lena had mastered her CEO scowl so completely that Kara found herself scrambling regardless. “Nothing!” she said, before narrowing her eyes and meeting Lena head on. The steel in her eyes was enough to throw the other woman off balance; Lena’s eyes widened, and she even looked surprised. “They’re lovely— if you were off to wine and dine with the United Nations.”

(Luckily enough for Kara, she got to just wear her Super Suit whenever she had to make an appearance somewhere fancy as Supergirl. Maybe it didn’t look like the most comfortable thing in the world, but it felt like a second skin to Kara. It was the closest thing she could wear that could remind her of Krypton; she was at her most powerful, most capable— most intimidating— with the cape around her shoulders. Plus, she had forced Winn to put in as many secret pockets as possible for her phone… and the occasional snack.)

“Maybe I’m trying to make a good impression around you,” Lena said, raising an eyebrow, and Kara just scoffed with breathless amusement, the thought of _Lena_ thinking she needed to do anything to impress Kara almost unbelievable.

“Trust me, Lena. I’m already plenty impressed. You don’t have to cut off circulation and risk a sprained ankle to do that.” Kara stood up abruptly, disappearing into her room for a moment. When she returned, and Lena saw what she was carrying bundled in her arms, the other woman’s face scrunched up in what Kara wasn’t sure was disgust, confusion, or deep down, excitement. “Here are some things you can actually be comfortable in.”

When Lena picked up the well-loved sweatpants and baggy sweatshirt with pinched fingers and a scrutinizing look in her eye, Kara wondered if this was still part of her act— or maybe, Lena Luthor really didn’t wear pajamas. She was still trying to decide whether to feel sad or embarrassed about her very forward invitation— not everyone liked to share clothes after all, especially not someone who maybe had designer socks— but Lena looked at her warmly.

“Normally, us Luthors wear monogrammed pajamas and silk robes, but… I think I can make these work.” 

She reached up towards the back of her head, and with a few deft movements of her fingers, Lena emerged with a handful of bobby pins, the remains of her tight bun freed at last. Her dark, silky hair fell down in waves— not perfectly brushed or styled, but natural. It felt personal, like it was a privilege to notice the frizz in Lena’s hair and watch her wipe off most of her dark lipstick with a tissue. Lena caught her eye then, and even in the dark, they glowed; she couldn’t look away if she tried. Kara tracked the way the tip of Lena’s tongue darted out, wetting the tissue, and felt completely dazzled. 

“Right!” she said, clearing her throat and breaking eye contact at last. “The bathroom is there, around the corner— you already know that, though. Silly me.” She brought a hand to the back of her neck and rubbed it, wondering if it was warm in her apartment or if it was just her. “You can go change, and I’ll…” She grabbed the box of popcorn, and in her excitement, ripped open the packaging with extreme force. The bags scattered in all directions, and Lena held up a hand to her mouth to hide a smile. Kara chuckled, unsure why her body was acting so frantically. “I will get started with the snacks.”

Lena nodded, and glided off down the hallway wordlessly, saving Kara the agony of whatever sly remark Lena could conjure up at her awkwardness. She was left in her kitchen with a ripped box in her hands, a mess all over her floor, and a feeling of elation that was rapidly spreading to the tips of her fingers. Lena Luthor was new, and unknown, and surprising at every turn. She was an enigma whose depths Kara was sure she would never reach the bottom of, but more than that— she made Kara feel excited. Lena made her feel like there was a kindred spirit finally within reach, and now all she wanted to do was sit on her couch, watch anything that Lena put on, and talk until the sun rose.

Kara hadn’t felt this way in a long time.

(She wasn’t sure if she’d _ever_ felt this way.)

By the time Lena returned, freshly changed into Kara’s clothes and a scrubbed, rosy face that reminded Kara once again of how young she was, two giant bowls of popcorn were hot and buttered, thanks to her heat vision. There were M&Ms off to the side, and the blanket that Lena had brought had been rolled out, Kara already occupying over half of it. Lena had that shy, unsure smile on her face again, but she curled up under the blanket anyways. _Brave_ , Lena had called it, and watching the other girl dive headfirst into doing what she hoped would comfort Kara, there was no doubt that that was exactly what it was.

Kara opened up her Netflix account, scrolling through her queue absently while she felt Lena get comfortable, and finally, handed the remote over to a surprised Lena.

“It’s our inaugural movie night, Lena. As the guest of honor, you get to pick.”

Lena’s eyes widened, and she looked at Kara as if no one had ever offered her anything so thoughtful before. Then she smiled, and leaned more fully into Kara’s side, another wall crumbling away without resistance between them.

Just like that, a very dear tradition was born.

…

Kara didn’t think there would be another side to her and Lena’s closeness. How could there be? She had found someone who understood her without question, someone who was willing to be there for her when she needed it most… even if it was blindly. Especially since it was blindly. And yes, Kara grew guiltier by the day about the fact that Lena supported her so whole-heartedly when she didn’t even know every side of Kara. Lena had told her so much; she had opened every door, and broke down every wall, and bared herself to Kara and trusted that Kara was doing the same. But she wasn’t. She couldn’t. And that was starting to kill her.

Then Lex broke out of prison.

Lex escaped, and Lena had been held hostage for a number of days, drugged and kidnapped by Eve Tessmacher who had betrayed them all. Lex escaped, and Lena was abandoned and bound in her office, left to be found by Alex. Lena had found out her brother was out loose and dangerous, and her trusted assistant had been a double agent the entire time, and James had been shot and the Harun El was only causing more complications, which Lena took on as her own burden. 

Lena’s entire life was flipped upside down in a matter of days, and when she needed Kara most, she wasn’t there.

And maybe Kara’s reasons were honorable. Supergirl had been deemed Public Enemy Number 1 in the eyes of the government and the people of National City, and Kara was trying to figure out how someone had managed to frame her for an attack on the White House. And then Lex escaped, and just like Lena, Kara took on burdens of her own. Lex was her cousin’s greatest enemy— and once upon a time, his biggest regret. Clark and Lex had a long, complicated history, and with Kal gone on Argo, Kara took it upon herself to stop Lex when Superman couldn’t. 

The only difference here was that with Supergirl out of commision for the time being, Lex Luthor would have to be stopped by Kara Danvers, Catco reporter. The pen would have to be mightier than the sword… or a cape, as she told Steve Lomeli.

Kara was alone, with the world against her, and not even Alex to turn to, and as a result, she focused on the only thing she could control: exposing Lex as a journalist, not as a superhero.

The only problem was forgetting about her best friend in the process.

What was the worst part was that Kara didn’t even _know_ that she’d abandoned Lena. After all, they’d been working together almost non-stop— both before the attack on the White House, and perhaps more importantly, after. It was a gesture of goodwill, of steadfast belief despite the differences that Lena and Supergirl had, and Kara latched onto it. In fact, she even thought they were moving forward and letting bygones be bygones; they’d investigated Eve together, fought side by side against a new metallo android, and had spent a whole day combing through Lex’s cell on Stryker’s Island. Supergirl and Lena were in sync for the first time in months, and despite the circumstances, Kara couldn’t help but feel exhilarated by it all. 

This was how it should have been all along. 

Her two lives were both leading her down the same exact path: stopping Lex. Kara had been spending every moment, both as Kara and Supergirl, to achieve that. When Clark and Lex had their showdown in Metropolis, Kara had been young, naive, and even a little arrogant. The way Clark was behaving— throwing caution to the wind, using his powers recklessly, risking everything to see one human brought to justice— Kara didn’t see the point as a girl. To be honest, she’d thought Kal-El to be obsessive, not understanding what it was about Lex Luthor that had caused everything to descend into chaos. 

Now that she was up against Lex herself, she finally understood, because through no fault of her own, her future— and the future of the world— now depended on her working until Lex Luthor was stopped. It was a slippery slope, and Kara found herself falling down it with ease. 

Obsession really was the only word for it.

There was an irony to it, that Kara, so consumed with Lex Luthor, hadn’t realized the way she’d been treating his sister until it was too late. From Lena’s perspective, it was pretty awful. Kara Danvers walked into her office after over a week of not seeing her, of brushing off her texts and missing her calls, after not helping out with James’ condition or even bothering to check in with her best friend after she was _kidnapped by her brother_ , and tried to use Lena as a source for an article. 

Even if it was accidental, it was still incredibly cruel.

And yes, Lena was drunk when it all came boiling over, and when she was drunk, her words were never minced, but it was still the truth, no matter how bitterly it was delivered. “You know, Alex is here,” she said, balancing on the edge of the couch and looking so close to breaking down that Kara didn’t know how she could have missed it. “You haven’t been around.”

Her voice wavered, and everything clicked into place for Kara, because she had forgotten how much her and Lena _needed_ each other. It was the price that they chose to pay for being so close, for caring about the other in such absolute terms; Kara had never thought it would come back to hurt. But she could see it in Lena’s eyes— she felt abandoned, and that was the one thing Kara had promised she would never do.

Kara’s eyes widened, and she took in a breath to say… something, but Lena continued. “Supergirl’s been there for me,” she said, without malice. For the first time, Lena directed her anger at Kara Danvers, not her alter ego. “A person who judges me on the very premise of my last name… but my best friend hasn’t.”

“Lena, I’m,” Kara let out a shaking breath, knowing that there was no way to escape this situation without hurting herself— or Lena— further. She couldn’t plead with the other woman, or defend herself by explaining that she’d been by Lena’s side this entire time, because Lena still didn’t know. “I’m sorry. I was… I was trying to catch Lex. _For you_. That’s why I’m doing this. Of course I care about how you feel.”

Lena’s eyes were dark, and her mouth was pinched, and she had never looked at Kara Danvers like this. It was dull, and shuttered, and deep down, heartsick, like she had always feared Kara would hurt her and was seeing that come true now. 

“You just care about me a little less than you do as a source for your story,” Lena answered, and Kara felt her heart break at the accusation.

If Lena really thought that, then Kara had truly made a mess of things.

“No! No, it’s not like that. I… I wish I could explain.” It felt cheap, saying that, because Kara knew that she could explain— but also knew that she wouldn’t. Learning Kara’s secret was the last thing Lena needed to reckon with right now, not when everything else was falling apart. “But,” she said, quieter, trying to keep her voice from trembling. Lena just raised her eyebrow, looking so cold and so distant that it felt worse than fighting Metallo. “But maybe it’s better if I just go.”

She nodded, keeping her eyes cast anywhere but at Lena’s face, because Kara didn’t know if she could handle looking at the disappointment in her eyes. She couldn’t even handle being in this office for another second, so she picked up her bag and left before Lena could say anything else that barbed into her heart.

Kara granted herself the elevator ride back down to wipe away her tears and clear her throat, before walking out into the night streets with a purpose that felt fuzzy, now. She’d grown accustomed to having Lena in her corner no matter the circumstances, and now that the other woman had pulled away that unconditional support, she felt lost. 

Nia saw her sulking, later, and tried to reassure her that things would turn out alright. And they did— not even a day later, her and Lena made up; the both of them stared at the other carefully on the Catco balcony, and Kara wondered if this had made Lena as miserable as it had made her.

Lena was the most important thing in her life. Kara Danvers would be nothing without her, and she had made the mistake of taking that for granted. Their fight was brief, and uncommon, but it had cut so deeply, that Kara was seized by a desperation now to fix things.

“I forgot what really matters,” Kara had said, smiling sadly and praying that Lena knew she was talking about her.

But Lena just stared back, still looking pained. “No, Kara. The truth is,” she said, taking in a deep breath and turning to look out over the balcony, “Even if you’d been standing right next to me when Lex escaped, I really wouldn’t have let you be there for me.”

And then Lena told Kara the last of her secrets.

It was a cruel, ironic twist of fate that it was Lena who was so torn up and guilty about not telling Kara the truth, who as every day passed, could feel her own lies slowly branded against her chest. She had gotten tripped up in her own tangle of identities, and it was enough to shed some light on what Lena must have been feeling all these years. 

Lena was blindly giving all of her trust and love to the last person who she thought would ever betray her, and Kara was reminded of the fact that that was all she’d been doing since the moment they met.

“I can only imagine what you think of me Kara.” Lena let out a gasp, looking Kara in the eye at last. She looked terrified, like she was waiting for Kara to yell, or walk away, or finally lump Lena in with the rest of her family. Lena Luthor was afraid she had just caused everything to fall apart between them, and her hands were shaking at the thought of it. “I don’t blame you.”

Ignoring the pit in her own stomach, Kara pulled Lena in for a tight embrace— at the very least, Lena deserved some comfort, and she had come to Kara expecting to get none. Kara couldn’t wrap her head around just how brave it was for Lena to tell her this, assuming that Kara would hate her for it, but doing it anyway.

It was the same leap that Kara had been avoiding for a long time.

“No, no, no.” Kara muttered, and squeezed Lena tight before the other woman could flinch away. She needed Kara’s unyielding, unconditional support right now— she needed to know that Kara still _loved_ her— and Kara would for the rest of her days if she got the chance. “You are _not_ weak. You are a brilliant, kind-hearted, beautiful soul,” she said, and Lena began crying in earnest now. “I’m so sorry you felt like you couldn’t tell me.”

Lena’s fingers curled once more into the fabric of Kara’s jacket before she pulled away. There was gratitude in her eyes, and Kara doubted she deserved it. “I am so sorry,” Kara said once more, not just for their fight— but for the things that she’d never said, and for what she knew would have to happen soon.

Kara loved Lena, she knew that much, and Lena being in her life meant more to her than almost everything else combined. That was why that moment never left her, haunted her up until the day that her worst fears came true and her and Lena really did fall apart. They knew each other— understood each other, loved, fought, and protected each other. Kara had always believed that those facts were set in stone.

(Even though everything was changing, Kara had been certain that Lena would stay. This small, burning taste of what would come stung with a vicious truth.)

——— 

_Don't start collecting things,_   
_Give me my rose and my glove._   
_Sweetheart, they're suspecting things,_   
_People will say we're in love!_

Her and Lena’s relationship had always been under a ridiculous amount of scrutiny.

First, it was the simple fact that Supergirl was teaming up with the sister of Lex Luthor. National City understandably found this tidbit fascinating and worrisome in equal measure; no one could deny the alluring, poetic draw between the two families, but Kara also knew that National City didn’t want what happened between her cousin and Lex to happen anywhere close to their city.

Her friends and family were hung up on the matter of their families as well, for too long in Kara’s opinion. Clark was there the very first time that she and Lena had met, but he hadn’t given the other woman even an inch of goodwill— probably too busy remembering what had happened the last time he’d been face to face with a Luthor. Alex heard Lena’s full name once and underlined her name in red. It had taken years for her to come around, and Kara wasn’t sure that Clark ever would.

But that was just one aspect of their relationship. Kara had gone into it expecting judgement, and suspicion, and words of caution from all involved. What she had never expected was for people to grow so invested in the other side of her friendship with Lena as well.

At first, Winn was the worst, mainly because his best friend was hanging out with the Lena Luthor, one of the scientists that Kara was sure he’d hang a poster of in his room. He was followed eventually by Maggie, who had an insufferable little smirk that grew on her face every time and Kara and Lena interacted that Kara couldn’t wipe off no matter how hard she tried. They were mostly innocent, and eventually, Maggie was gone, and Winn was off into the future. Kara figured that with them gone, she could relax a bit.

But then along came Nia.

Nia showed up to the scene starry-eyed and eager, and by the time Kara had initiated her into the Super Friends, Nia wanted to know everything— including all of the dirt. What Kara didn’t realize was the fact that Nia was only the start.

All of the sudden, Nia was poking her side at random moments during their day at Catco, and Alex would narrow her eyes whenever Kara brought up Lena in conversation, and even _J’onn_ — as stoic and no-nonsense as he was, would occasionally send Kara a stiff but leading smile that made her wonder if there was some big conspiracy against her. Maybe J’onn had just like, radically chilled out since leaving the DEO, but Kara would bet money on the fact that Nia had somehow sucked him into whatever she was so fascinated with.

Where Winn and Maggie had left off, Nia picked up with gusto, and suddenly, Lena Luthor was all she wanted to talk about. Unlike Alex, and James, and everyone else when they had first met Lena, Nia couldn’t seem to care less about Lena’s family. Instead, she was focused on the weirdest details.

“Do you always buy Lena coffee? That is so cute,” she commented one day, voice far too loud for the packed elevator they were in. Kara, who was busy trying not to spill Lena’s very boring, black coffee that she’d been caught red-handed with, cast a nervous look around the elevator. There was Rachel from Catco’s gossip column, who didn’t look as spaced out as she’d been when Kara and Nia had first entered the elevator. Something about Lena’s name made everyone pay attention.

Thankfully, their floor was the next stop, and Kara managed to stall until they were out of earshot before responding. The last thing she wanted was another very awkward meeting with Lena about the tabloids. “It’s the least I can do,” she replied, taking a sip of her own caramel latte and scanning the bullpen for her best friend. Maybe Lena was still at her LCorp office. “After all, she’s the nicest boss anybody could ask for.”

Nia nodded , trailing behind as Kara wandered over to the main office, still trying to find Lena. “I always thought it was weird that Cat Grant would sell Catco to a tech and science company,” she said, glancing over at Kara as she craned her neck. “I know you were her assistant before becoming a reporter here. Do you know why?”

Kara couldn’t suppress a grin at the memory. She’d never forget how red in the face Morgan Edge had gotten after Lena had delivered the news to him with that ruthless, boardroom smirk that she was so good at. “It’s a funny story, actually. Some jerk was trying to buy out control of the board to get a news site to report favorably on him. I was so angry, and over lunch I told Lena about it, and-”

“I bought the company. Right from underneath Morgan Edge’s pompous ass,” A familiar voice finished for her. Kara’s smile widened at the smug purr in Lena’s words, she didn’t even have to look to know that Lena’s famous smirk was in full display. “Good morning, darling,” she said once Kara did turn around; she grabbed the coffee cup from Kara’s waiting hand and planted a kiss high on her cheek. “Thank you for the coffee.”

“Always,” Kara managed, blaming the redness in her face on the way Nia was gawking at the entire interaction. Lena just raised an eyebrow, knowing full well how to fluster Kara, and took a contented sip of her drink while Kara swallowed hard.

Nia was still stuck on what Lena had said, turning something over in her head before her eyebrows shot up comically. “You bought Catco… for Kara?” she asked. “Wow, I mean I’d heard some things but I never _actually_ thought-”

“What? No!” Kara exclaimed, laughing nervously while Lena seemed just as flustered.

“Just a smart business move,” she said at nearly the same time, less suave and in control than she was before. Her head spun back to focus on Nia, who was taking in the scene with a bad attempt at a neutral expression on her face. “What have you heard?”

It came out more panicked than Lena probably intended, and Nia chose to just sidestep it instead of providing an answer. “Oh, nothing. I’m glad you two are such good friends.” 

Lena seemed to be in no state to respond, still more focused on taking a long, _hot_ drink of coffee instead of making eye contact, so Kara took the reins. “I’m glad too,” she said, throwing an arm around Lena’s shoulders and squeezing in that comforting way that always made Lena stop acting so stiff and lean into her. It worked once again, and Lena finally looked back up with a content smile that was the only thing Kara could see.

They must’ve been in their own world for a moment, because when Nia suddenly cleared her throat and shuffled her feet, they jumped apart. Lena’s coffee tipped forwards in her hand at a dangerous angle, and Kara grabbed it as it spilled. The liquid should have scalded someone’s hand, but to Kara, it was just a vaguely warm sensation.

Lena fussed about it anyway, apologizing and taking Kara’s supposedly injured hand with both of her own, searching frantically for damage. “God, Kara, I’m so sorry!” she said, still letting loose a string of regrets. “I’m such a mess this morning. Here— we can go find a rag…?”

“It’s alright,” Kara said, removing her hand gently from Lena’s scrutiny before she could discover something decidedly inhuman about the lack of reaction on Kara’s skin. “It must've cooled down before it spilled.” Her eyes met Lena’s green ones again, and she faltered, finding it hard to do anything other than notice the little flecks of blue and gold that were brought out in the early morning sun. “I’m okay.”

Nia broke her out of a trance once again. “Errr, I- I’m going to be at my desk. Over there. By myself. Away from this.” Her ears were tipped red, and she kept darting back and forth between Lena and Kara as if she had never seen something so fascinating. “I’ll give you some privacy?”

She was gone before Kara could wonder why she had posed it as a question, or why Lena cleared her throat rather strongly as soon as the other girl was out of sight. “I better go see James,” she announced at last, and for what must’ve been the hundredth time, Kara remembered that they were together.

“Right. James. Jimmy. Your boyfriend,” Kara rambled, unsure as to why everything seemed so charged all of the sudden. “And I will go watch over my Padawan.” She raised her hand in the air and wiggled her fingers right in front of Lena’s face. “Show her the ways of the Force.”

Kara got the laugh she had been hoping for, and they both seemed to come back down to earth. “Go on, Master Kenobi,” Lena teased in a fake accent that sounded absolutely nothing like any character in Star Wars, but Kara still giggled, because it was Lena. 

Only because it was Lena.

After that day, Nia’s crusade began in earnest, and she somehow roped Alex into it, because for months, Kara’s every move was picked apart and analyzed by the two of them— often with Kara right there, protesting weakly.

So, Kara had let Lena borrow a handful of her sweatshirts. And she picked up coffee and donuts, pizza and takeout whenever they were together. And yeah, maybe they each had a spare toothbrush in the other’s apartment, and Kara had more than a few of Lena’s discarded work blouses washed, ironed, and hanging in her own closet, while Lena was putting those sweatshirts to good use. So what if she wanted Lena to feel comfortable around her, or that Lena was beginning to feel like home? She didn’t see why Alex and Nia were being so weird about it.

“Seriously,” she complained one night months later, when she was gulping down a giant chocolate shake and Alex and Nia— who was _supposed_ to be there to help Kara work on an assignment— were both well on their way past tipsy, a bottle and a half of red wine already shared between them. “Why do you keep giving each other those weird looks?”

“Because there’s kale in your fridge, Kara,” Alex replied easily, the words slipping smooth and loose, and Kara prepared herself for a long night. This was Alex just drunk enough to tease her sister with abandon— but sober enough that the jabs and the jokes usually held some truth to them. “Kale! Don’t you have anything to say for yourself?”

Alex said it like she’d discovered an illegal stash of off-world drugs in Kara’s fridge, not a superfood. Nia snickered and played along, letting out an exaggerated gasp and flinging her arm over her eyes. “I thought this was a safe space for junk food! And you! Why is Kara Danvers eating kale when she can eat donuts all day and still lift a car?”

The two of them had gone too far by insinuating that she had ever willingly eaten kale in her life. “I don’t! Nia, I swear to you,” she said, unable to keep herself from playing along with their dramatic game. She really didn’t have to fake her outburst, however— kale really was terrible and she didn’t care what anyone said otherwise. “It’s Lena’s. I’ve never even touched it.”

“I didn’t realize you two shared a fridge,” Alex said slyly, acting like she did when they were younger and she’d play a prank on Kara. It felt like there was a bucket of water hanging precariously over Kara’s head, just waiting for Alex to tip it. “For someone as loaded as her, I thought Lena could afford her own kitchen appliances.”

“Of course she owns her own fridge, dummy.” Kara looked over at Alex and wondered how much she’d had to drink if she was asking such weird questions. “I just bought it for her. She puts it in her smoothies in the mornings and it is _disgusting_.” She could feel her skin prickle with just the thought.

Another shared glance between Alex and Nia, this time with Nia unable to hide a smirk. “Lena sure is at your apartment a lot,” Alex observed, trailing off and looking at Kara from under squinted, half-drunk lids. “Is that her shampoo that’s in your shower?”

“Umm, first of all, why are you keeping tabs on what’s in my shower?” Nia giggled, pouring herself another glass off to the side as Kara glowered at the pair of them. “And yes, it is. What’s wrong with that?”

“Well, why don’t I get to put a bottle of _my_ shampoo in your shower?”

“Because you buy those stupid value packs that take up all of the shelf room, Alex. Buy a reasonable amount of hair products like everyone else, and then we can talk. And why do you even want to? You have your own bathroom to use.”

“And Lena doesn’t?” Alex asked, and Kara was starting to feel exasperated by this incessant line of questioning. Once her sister got on a topic, she refused to drop it, and Kara didn’t even know what they were bantering about.

“She does,” she replied patiently— drunk Alex got bored easily. Maybe Kara could outlast her. “I just want her to feel comfortable when she spends the night.”

“It’s so cute that you two do that,” Nia said, peering over through her wine glass. It made her eyes look like they were bugging out of her head, and Kara had to stifle a laugh. “Looking out for each other so much. It’s sweet.”

“Well, she does the same for me. I guess we’re both lucky to be best friends.”

While Nia seemed genuinely touched by the way Kara and Lena thought of each other so often, Alex seemed to be barreling down a completely different path altogether. Whatever conclusion she reached made her eyebrows pinch together. “Yeah,” she said, tilting her head, and speaking slowly, like she was picking her way through a minefield. “Lucky is one word for it.”

(Her sister looked at her in a way that was half-exasperated, half-worried, like she could tell that something had changed for Kara. Like she knew, just like Kara did— even if she couldn’t admit it at the time— that nothing good would come out of this. Not when Kara as _Kara_ and Kara as _Supergirl_ strung her out across the expanses of Lena’s good graces. Not when those two parts of her had dug themselves into opposing trenches, and no amount of work would leave the dirt undisturbed.)

Kara nodded warily, well aware that something in the room’s atmosphere had shifted. This conversation was not over; it was likely only just beginning. She broke eventually, when Alex continued to stare at her from over the rim of her glass. “What’s that supposed to mean?” she asked, trying to stay light and playful even as the mood was darkening in front of her eyes.

“Nothing! Nothing. I’m just-” Alex made a face, looking like she didn’t want to talk about this any more than Kara did. “Look. Realistically, how much longer can this… _thing_ you’ve got going with Lena last?”

“As long as we’ve got more episodes of Friends to watch? Basically forever.” Kara absolutely refused to take this conversation in the direction that Alex wanted it to go. She wouldn’t talk about the underlying truth. Not when everything was so amazing.

Not when Lena was on her own without James and Kara hadn’t thought about Mon-El in months and sometimes, before she could stop herself, Kara started imagining the possibility of maybe-

No. Kara couldn’t think of that either.

“Kara. Let’s be serious for a second,” Alex chastised, and Kara wanted to point out the irony of that statement when her and Nia were both slowly but surely tipping over backwards. She just raised an eyebrow and Alex scowled, leaning forwards and putting down her drink on the coffee table— great. Now she really meant business. “When are you going to tell her about…” Alex shot a nervous glance over at Nia, before lowering her voice. “Your night job?” 

“You haven’t told Lena you’re _SUPERGIRL_?!” Nia cried out.

Several things happened all at once. Alex let out a string of fast, creative expletives. Kara reached over and smacked Nia’s side with a pillow while the younger girl was still making sputtering noises of shock. She looked back and forth between Kara and Alex, who had so many different emotions passing across her face that not even Kara could keep up with them. Eventually, the death glare that she sent her way was clear enough for Kara to read; it seemed like she had never actually informed her sister, Director of the DEO and protector of her biggest secret, that Kara had kinda, sorta… told Nia weeks ago.

“Really, Kara?” Alex asked, looking a little dead inside. Kara shot an apologetic glance over to the both of them— to Nia because she was about to have to do a lot of paperwork, and Alex because she was the one who would have to file it all— and explain to HR why _another_ civilian knew Supergirl’s identity. “Does your pizza man know too?”

“Hey!” Kara said, irrationally defensive over a very fair criticism that Alex was making. Maybe her telling Nia had been slightly… rash, but Kara would still argue it was necessary. Nia had been hurting, and felt alone, and was trying to live as an alien and as a hero amidst all of the hate that Ben Lockwood and his Children of Liberty had brought with them. Who better to sympathize with than Supergirl herself? “First of all, no. Jake doesn’t know, and even if he did-” Alex tipped her head back and groaned- “Even if he did, Alex, I tip him so much that he would never want to endanger his best customer.”

“But Nia? No offense,” Alex said, looking at Nia who just shrugged her shoulders, looking as bemused by the whole thing as Alex was. “But you’ve only known each other for a couple of months. What, are you just handing out flyers now?”

“Hey! To be fair, I assumed that I’d told you.” Kara remembered then, about Haley and the DEO and her sister, of all people, agreeing to get her memories wiped for the sake of her identity. “I forget that you have some… gaps in what you remember from the past few months.”

She must’ve looked guilty, because Alex’s frown softened just for a moment, long enough for her to rub Kara’s back in reassurance. “Again, that wasn’t your fault. But for my sake, care to refresh my memory as to why your new coworker knows?”

“I figured that Nia, being Dreamer and all, would be a good person to tell.”

“And Lena wouldn’t?”

“Alex,” Kara warned, gritting her teeth and fighting off a sudden feeling of irritation. Alex knew why Kara hadn’t told Lena yet. She’d been the one discouraging it for all these years. “That’s different and you know it.”

“Do I? Because with the amount of people that you’ve told already, you must be an expert at the reveal by now. How hard can it be to tell your _best friend_?” 

Alex was still looking at her in that strange way; her words were dripping with something Kara couldn't identify but it was working, goading and pushing her towards the edge of a plummet that she really didn’t want to go down. It wasn’t malicious, or even teasing— Alex was genuinely concerned. Pitying, even, like she knew how scared Kara was about having that conversation with Lena.

“I was going to tell her at that game night!” Kara hissed, back to feeling defensive and suddenly wishing that she was drinking something stronger. “You’re the one that told me not to. I’m trying to give her time to heal.”

“It’s been two weeks since Lex died, Kara. I know you mean well, or at least you think you do, but wouldn’t you agree that it’s been enough time?”

“No.” Kara crossed her arms, feeling petulant at the fact that her and Alex’s positions were inexplicably reversed— that she was the one reluctant to tell Lena when she’s been arguing for it for years. “Lena doesn’t handle betrayal well. I saw it myself with Eve, and with Lex, and I…” 

She couldn’t bring herself to say anything more, already feeling far too cracked open in front of these two women who looked ready to either give her a hug or frogmarch her to Lena’s door themselves. Alex, at least, seemed to have read the room— and her sister— more than Nia had, and she tried to adopt a gentler, less abrasive approach.

Tried, being the operative word, as Alex had had too much wine to be delicate about the matter.

“All I’m trying to say is that Lena deserves to know the truth.”

“Of course she does, but-”

“No buts. You need to tell her the truth.”

“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” Nia said, trying to carefully venture into a conversation that had more extreme depths than she was aware of. Kara all but ignored her, letting her tread blindly.

“I will at some point, Alex,” she said. “I just need to find a good time to do it.”

“You’re scared,” Alex decided, switching tactics. “I’m not even sure you want to tell her the truth anymore.”

“Rao, Alex, can we just drop this-”

“Admit it! You’re terrified to tell your best-”

“ALEX!”

The glass in Kara’s hand shattered. In the sudden silence, Kara swallowed hard and tried to convince her heart to stop acting like it was about to run a marathon. It didn’t work. 

“Yeah. I’m scared. Is that what you wanted to hear?” Her sister said nothing, just sitting there beside a visibly uncomfortable Nia and looking at Kara with wide eyes and a pinched mouth. “That’s what I thought,” Kara mumbled, and felt a surge of regret when she glanced over at Nia. “Sorry, Nia. Didn’t mean to startle you. I lose control of my powers sometimes. Let me go get a broom.”

“Wait.” A hand shot out and wrapped itself around Kara’s elbow, and since it belonged to her sister, she stopped moving. She wouldn’t just dislocate Alex’s shoulder— even if she had just all but forced Kara to face the truth.

Kara let out a long breath through her nose. “ _What_ , Alex?” 

Her sister’s face softened in the way that reminded Kara why Alex was so easy to forgive; it was a look saved just for her, reminding Kara that while she might have the entire world to protect, Alex would always look out for her first. Alex always put her above and beyond everyone else.

“Kara, I- I just don’t want you to get your heart broken. That’s all.” There was more she wanted to say, Kara knew, and after another moment of silence, Alex did. “I know how easy it is for the people we love most in the world to hurt us. How easy it is for us to hurt them.”

There was more to Alex’s words than just a superficial warning. Alex never said anything she didn’t mean, Kara knew. Those wandering thoughts— about her, and Lena, and what the future could mean for them— came creeping back into her mind before Kara could stop them, this time tinged with something bitter. 

All she could do was resist the sudden burning in her eyes and give Alex a curt nod. “Okay,” she said, before standing up, retrieving the broom, and disposing of the mess. With her superspeed, it didn’t take longer than half a second, and the casual, domestic display of her powers was more than enough to impress Nia, who brought the lightness back into the room with the way her jaw dropped.

“Sometimes, I really can’t believe I’m friends with Supergirl,” she said, shaking her head and grinning cheekily. “And I get to hear all of her gossip, too.”

She got another pillow thrown at her for that last comment, but it was enough to relax everyone. Alex made a peace offering by going to grab Uno from Kara’s stack of games, and after a few rounds Nia suggested watching a scary movie— still worlds away from the assignment they were supposed to be researching about air quality in National City’s manufacturing district, but Kara went along with it. By the time the last bottle of wine had been polished off and Alex and Nia began a very unhurried, sleepy goodbye process, Kara had almost forgotten about what her sister had said.

Until, when they were standing outside on the curb making sure Nia got into her Uber, Alex turned to her with that same look in her eye— the one that always hinted at something just out of Kara’s reach— and Kara knew their conversation wasn’t over.

“You love her, don’t you?” Alex asked, and Kara looked away on reflex. It wasn’t a difficult question to answer. Not in the slightest. But something in the way that Alex’s words had an edge worried her. “More than you’ve loved anyone in a long time.”

“Yes, Alex,” she said, laughing a little, even if it was out of nervousness. “She’s my best friend. I’d do anything for her.”

Her sister just let out a sigh, searching her eyes in a way that made Kara wonder what Alex really meant by that question. She wondered if that was the answer she was searching for.

Of course she loved Lena. Of course she did. Not in that way, though.

(Right?)

“Then _tell_ her, Kara,” Alex said, and it almost sounded like a plea. It sounded like Alex was realizing that this dirty little secret they’d been hiding all these years was about to rear its head, and everyone was going to be a victim of it. “Before it all goes wrong.”

Later, when Alex left and Kara unlocked her apartment door with trembling hands, she thought about what her sister said to her. Before it goes wrong. It seemed that Alex knew, just as Kara did, that there would be nothing clean about unearthing this truth. She had waited too long, had complicated things too much, had pulled her two identities to opposite poles and was still trying to tie them back together. 

Lena was going to be so upset, and the very thought of it made Kara want to go back to the start of it all, before Reign and synthetic Kryptonite, before Red Daughter and Lex Luthor, before everything had become tinged in shades of grey. 

They were so much younger, once upon a time.

She texted Lena then, because she couldn’t bear it any longer.

_Kara: Hey! I know you’ve had a crazy couple of weeks. Haven’t seen you in what feels like forever!! Wanna have a movie night sometime soon? I’ll even let you pick…_

Lena responded three and a half hours later, when both of them really should have been asleep. Kara thought about flying past the LCorp office quickly, just to make sure Lena wasn’t still there, but something made her falter. Like maybe, after everything that had happened, she shouldn’t do those things anymore.

_Lena: Work has been hell— a movie night would be lovely, but I’m going to need a raincheck._

The reply was short and succinct— unusual for Lena, who usually went above and beyond when texting Kara, doing her best to keep up with the other girl’s extensive use of emojis, gifs, and random paragraphs just because. Kara tried not to take it to heart; Lena really has been through hell this year, and with the fallout of Lex and Agent Liberty and Red Daughter all being stopped, Kara can’t blame Lena for acting worn out.

_Kara: Raincheck it is. Don’t work yourself to death._

Another moment of consideration, and she typed out more.

_Kara: My couch misses you almost as much as I do!_

She sent a picture with the message, a goofy selfie of her wrapped in her favorite blanket, a bowl of popcorn balanced precariously on her knees. She looked a little like the Jedi knights that her and Lena loved so much, and the thought was reassuring. Comfortable, compared to the whirlwind of emotion that she’d been wrestling with lately. 

The message was opened, but Lena never responded.

Kara went to bed not long after, any hope of having a nice conversation with her best friend snuffed out. Lena probably had an early morning tomorrow, she reasoned. Or was just too busy to respond to some silly, unimportant text. Why else would she ignore her?

Either way, Kara fell asleep missing her best friend desperately, unable to shake the feeling that something had shifted between them. She wanted to know how to fix it— she wanted to know whether or not it was something to be fixed.

(At least, she thought she wanted to know. But this restless passivity was much better compared to when the truth finally did come out. After, Kara wondered if she would’ve rather lived in that limbo for the rest of her life, because at least nothing had broken yet. At least, Kara still believed that Lena loved her.)

——— 

_Don't praise my charm too much,_   
_Don't look so vain with me,_   
_Don't stand in the rain with me,_   
_People will say we're in love!_

Kara could admit, at least to herself, that the way her and Lena interacted could… come off as flirtatious. That was the way it had always been between the two of them, way back to when they first met, so Kara leaned into it, learned to banter and counter Lena’s cleverness with her own. Their conversations had a fluidity to them that Kara had never found in another human, and it was liberating. Lena was one of the few people that could keep up with Kara’s intelligence once she’d gotten comfortable enough to let it shine through her clueless persona; they’d trade lines back and forth, building and ratcheting up the tension until one of them broke it with a giggle or a sheepish smile. Admittedly, it was usually Kara— not that she could help it. Lena Luthor was a natural-born flirt, and it was easy to be overwhelmed when she was the one leaning across from Kara in a restaurant booth.

Ironically enough, it was Lena who so often praised Kara for her charm, as if she was the one who had been raised to captivate anyone who was deemed fit. Kara had seen Lena leave behind everyone from her socially inept team of scientists to waitresses at diners a blushing, stuttering mess, and yet it was Kara who she found beguiling.

(The best part was that Lena liked Kara Danvers so much, not just Supergirl. She was drawn to clumsy, unassuming, bumbling Kara Danvers, even as a superhero sometimes stopped by for nightly chats. It was nice, having someone find delight in her human side. Sometimes, Kara made a fool of herself just to make Lena smile. The breathless laugh that typically accompanied it made whatever embarrassment Kara had just suffered absolutely worthwhile.)

The constant stream of compliments would be enough to get to anyone’s head. Kara’s ego was bolstered nicely by her best friend, or so Alex thought, and Kara didn’t have much of a counterargument. After all, when someone heaps that much praise on you, you can’t help but show off a little.

It was the best of both worlds, really— she was regular ol’ Kara Danvers while also using what powers she had to show Lena just how cool she was. She didn’t care what Alex said. Why shouldn’t Kara make use of the… advantages she happened to possess to impress her best friend? 

And honestly, it was just for the little things. She made sure Lena’s coffee was the perfect temperature, and helped find Lena’s missing lipstick. If some jerk was harassing her, or trying to get too close, Kara acted as a bubbly, friendly, immovable barrier, sending the guy stumbling away with a smile and a tight squeeze to his bicep. When Lena was chattering away to her on the way to lunch, head bowed and distracted by the email she was also trying to type out, Kara wrapped a strong arm around her waist before she could accidentally walk out into oncoming traffic. 

They went to the county fair, and Kara wanted to win Lena one of those cheap, obscenely large stuffed bears that were impossible to get. So she walked up to the high striker with her sleeves rolled up, and made sure to swing the hammer just barely. Seeing Lena standing off to the side, her hands shoved into the pockets of her fashionable coat and trying not to laugh at Kara’s showmanship was distracting, and she may have overestimated her strength— as she tried explaining to an exasperated Alex later, she was probably the only one who saw the sparks shoot out at the bottom— but the bell was rung. The people watching clapped, and Kara got the big white bear she’d been eyeing all night.

When she turned to present it to Lena, the other woman was gone, and Kara felt her spirits fall. Here she was, trying to impress someone who could buy the entire company that made the toy animals. She felt like a dork until she rounded the corner and found an unbelievable sight— Lena Luthor, waiting in line with three baseballs balanced precariously in her arms, studying the stacked milk bottles with narrowed brows.

“Good choice with the white one,” Lena said in acknowledgement, still focusing on the bottles. “That one’s my favorite.”

“Well, good thing that I won it for you” Kara said, already fighting off a giggle when Lena turned and faced her with wide eyes, like Kara had just handed her the keys to a yacht. That is, assuming that yachts had keys? “What are you doing over here?”

“Returning the favor,” she replied with a sly grin that made Kara’s heart flip over. This was Lena at her best— relaxed, free from work and whatever other burdens she was carrying, and looking for trouble, usually with Kara by her side. “I’ve never done one of these things before, but I can’t imagine they’re that difficult.”

Kara eyed the giant penguin tied up right in the middle, like it was calling her name. All of the sudden, she couldn’t imagine life without it. “I don’t know. Alex always tells me they’re rigged.”

She thought about taking one of those baseballs for herself, just to make sure that that penguin would be hers by the end of the night, but Lena scoffed as if she had all the confidence in the world, and Kara decided to let her have this one.

“Please. Your sister is just a sore loser,” she said, tilting her head as she watched the person in front of them try their luck. Their last throw hit the bottom two bottles cleanly, but they stayed upright all the same. The bored teenager running the booth shrugged his shoulders in a half-apology and motioned Kara and Lena forwards. 

“It’s all physics,” she whispered in a throaty, excited mumble, and Kara found herself holding onto that bear a little tighter. She blamed it on the nerves as Lena lined up to take her first throw.

It missed entirely— not because Lena’s calculations were off, but because she looked as though she’d never thrown a ball before in her life. Her form was so awful that the ball ended up nearly going backwards— a Luthor, endangering the innocent crowds. Kara choked back a sudden laugh at the thought, and Lena looked back at her, sheepish but pretending to be hurt.

“Don’t laugh!” she said, putting on a tough act but already giggling herself. Kara did her best to listen, but found it was impossible when Lena was breaking down right by her side. “The Luthors value brain over brawn, Kara. Not everyone can swing a hammer or throw a baseball as naturally as you.”

“Well, let me show you, then.” At Lena’s amusement, Kara went over and set herself right behind the other woman, their feet knocking together and her hands just barely brushing the deep maroon fabric of Lena’s sweater.

Her laughter had died off when she drew in a sharp breath, but Lena played along quickly, letting Kara move her body this way and that, navigating it into a throwing technique that actually resembled something normal. “Put your feet here, and _here_ ,” Kara said, not needing to raise her voice when Lena’s ear was right there. She wrapped her arms around the other woman to grab her wrist gently, and the both of them leaned into the touch. Lena could be incredibly touchy with the people she wanted to be with, and Kara had just recently made that exclusive list. 

“How bold of you, Kara Danvers,” Lena teased, sending a grin over her shoulder that made Kara move forward unconsciously. “You’ve always wanted to do this, haven’t you?”

“Maybe,” Kara admitted coyly, bumping Lena’s knee with her own. “Or maybe, I just really want that giant penguin.”

“Oh, I see how it is!” Laughing again, Lena tried to pull away and revert to her old throwing form, but Kara snuck her arms around her waist and pulled her into a bear hug, refusing to let her escape. “Am I nothing but a tool for your amusement?” she cried, giving up on trying to wriggle away and allowing Kara to maneuver her around.

“Never,” Kara vowed, squeezing once just to make sure Lena knew. Her cheeks were flaming red, but she couldn’t bring herself to step away. She loved being this close to her best friend. “Now, all you have to do is raise the ball past your ear, keep your eye on the target… and follow through!” She brought down Lena’s wrist across the two of their bodies, and stepped away. Everything felt colder without her.

The second throw was better, even if it did still miss. Kara was thankful that there was no line behind them, because by the way they broke down into hysterics between each throw, they were going to be here forever. The ball hit the wooden frame that held up the bottles; they barely rattled, and Kara knew that it would be a miracle if Lena managed to pull this off.

“You’ve got this,” she said anyway, encouraging Lena as a plan formulated in her mind. Maybe Supergirl could help out, just a little. “Throw it hard, and don’t think so much.”

Lena bit her lip and nodded, adjusting her grip on the baseball and moving her feet back to where Kara had shown her. Kara couldn’t help but feel a surge of warmth at the gesture. “This penguin better be worth it,” she joked. “I’m not sure my public image will ever recover.”

“Stop stalling!”

“Fine,” she huffed, then drew her arm back carefully. She took one more breath, tilted her head, and stuck out her tongue, and the ball flew towards its target.

Time slowed, and Kara knew that the baseball was going to miss high without some subtle intervention. She snuck a glance over at Lena, and was surprised to see the other woman with her eyes closed and fingers crossed, like she truly did care about winning Kara this silly stuffed animal. Her decision was made then. Kara sneezed, and a gust of wind blew towards the spinning ball with just enough force that it dropped towards the bottles with an alarming speed. With a crash, the bottom two bottles toppled backwards, leaving the top one to spin and teeter before finally falling to the ground as well. 

Lena, who’d opened her eyes after hearing her throw make contact, let out a sigh of relief before being engulfed in a spinning hug by an exuberant, celebratory Kara. She let out a grunt before letting Kara lift her up with one arm, the other hand cupped around her mouth and imitating the roars of a crowd. 

“My hero! Lena Luthor, ace pitcher of National City! Victor of carnival toys!” Kara cried out, laughing all the while. Lena, still half-slung over Kara’s broad shoulder, froze for just a second at the call of her name. Her whole name. But Kara said it with such joy, and admiration, and above all love, that Lena relaxed, hitting Kara’s back with her hands.

“Put me down, dummy,” she said, trying to act cool, but faced with Kara’s incessant goofiness, she gave up. Lena accepted her offer for a good high five, then walked back over to the booth worker with as much dignity as possible. Pointing at the penguin, she was back at Kara’s side in seconds, holding the massive animal behind her back as if that would hide it. Kara did the same thing with the bear, and the both of them cracked a smile.

It had begun to rain, making the ground muddy and everything shimmer in a way only the spring could bring. Everyone else ran for cover under the flimsy awnings of the food carts, or gave up entirely and started the long trudge back to their cars. But Lena didn’t move an inch, and neither did Kara, the both of them grinning like idiots in the pouring rain.

Lena smiling at a county fair in that gorgeous maroon coat, her hair wet, with the tiniest evidence of chocolate smeared at the corner of her mouth from a warm cookie and her eyes reflecting the swirling lights of the signs and amusement rides, was the most perfect thing Kara had ever seen. She almost wished she’d stolen one of James’ cameras to capture the moment, but not even a photo could capture this.

“Here,” Kara said, feeling shy all of the sudden, and holding out the bear in outstretched arms. “I know you didn’t do these types of things a lot, but I hope you had a good time.”

The penguin was thrust into her own arms, and somehow Lena managed to sneak herself in too. “Kara, it was lovely. Of course I had a good time— I was with you.” Kara wrapped her arms around Lena and their prizes all at the same time, squeezing on instinct at the string of words that had just become her favorite maybe ever. 

“Aww, golly,” she replied dreamily, then snapped into focus and turned bright red at Lena’s delighted laughter. Had she really just? Rao, she had. To Lena Luthor, someone who had never said something so colloquial in her life. And to think— Kara had thought she’d come off as being pretty cool all night.

“You’re incredible,” Lena said, and pressed a smiling kiss to Kara’s cheekbone, her face turning more red than it had ever been. “If it makes you feel any better, we’ll blame all of this on the weather, alright darling? Now come. Let’s get out of here.” Kara, still dazed, could barely bring herself to nod.

One of the most pleasantly surprising things about Lena was the fact that she didn’t care what Kara said, or where she was from, or how she acted. Lena liked her even if Kara didn’t know the difference between a salad fork and a regular fork, liked her even more because Kara didn’t think there _should_ be a difference.

And yeah, maybe Kara Danvers had been conceived as an act, one that Kara had rehearsed the moment Kal brought her to Alex and Eliza and Jeremiah. But it was never born out of a lie; it was genuine, and contained all of the multitudes of pain and anger, as well as the hope, strength, and earnestness that was within Kara. 

Something about the way that Lena smiled at her made Kara want to share every part with her. Out of everything she’d seen and done, Kara wanted to laugh at how perfect this was right now. She just wanted this moment to last forever, rain and all.

… 

No matter how confident Kara grew to feel around her, it was impossible for Lena to bolster her ego that much, as Alex complained about constantly. Not when Lena dazzled her twice as much as Kara managed to charm her, leaving Kara to trip over herself and just follow behind.

Her Christmas party, the second one that Lena had been invited to, had sealed away any hope of Kara ever recovering from being in the other woman’s presence. Lena was so beautiful, and while Kara had always known it, something about that night made the realization hit hard. She arrived at the door in a glittering, intricate dress that reflected the light of every candle that Kara was glad she’d lit. Her cheeks were rosy, and her eyes were warm and familiar, and in one moment Kara realized just how far they’d come— how abrupt of a departure this was from their first few cautious months of friendship. 

She was starting to realize how much she felt at home around Lena Luthor, and knew with a fluttering kind of intensity that the feeling was mutual.

Later that night, after Kara had forced herself away from Lena’s side for at least half an hour to play the role of a good host, she found herself drawn back towards her. She was a moth to a flame, like Eliza had taught her all those years ago. And Rao, was Lena burning bright. All of Kara’s troubles— Mon-El’s return, Morgan Edge, Reign— they paled in comparison, shadows chased away into the night sky. Kara didn’t understand why the rest of the room wasn’t just as affected as she was by Lena, radiant and grinning across a tabletop from Sam. 

She couldn’t unsee James in the corner of her eye, looking as entranced as she felt. Kara ignored the strange bite of jealousy nipping at her throat and buried it deep, not ready to reckon with whatever it implied. So, she rationalized instead; James was her… ex, and Lena was her best friend. It was perfectly natural for Kara to have reservations about James wanting to pursue Lena— especially since until recently, he’d felt nothing but hate and distrust for her.

James was a good man, Kara knew, and he’d changed in his beliefs and his actions in the time that they’d known Lena. She couldn’t ask for anyone better to date her best friend in the world. Kara just didn’t understand why all of this logic and reasoning couldn’t wash out the bitterness underneath her tongue.

Whatever those feelings were, and everything else that Kara struggled with, vanished in the moment that Lena settled that soft, caring gaze on her. Lena tilted her head and smiled at her so admiringly, as if _she_ was the lucky one. As if it was Kara who was shining as bright as the moon. All Kara could do was to smile back, memorizing the tenderness written across Lena’s face and marveling at the way it knocked the air clean of her lungs.

It was punched out for real by Reign later that night, and Kara lost a fight _badly_ for the first time in a long time. When she woke up surrounded by Legion technology, and felt the way Alex’s hands shook when they curled against her aching back, and she looked at herself, pale and bruised in the mirror and realized how close she had come to losing everything, Kara thought back on Lena in the candlelight.

Lena, who had joined Kara out on her balcony as the night was winding down. It was before Kara had gotten the call about Reign and the destruction she was causing, before everything had gotten so violently loud and fast. It had been so quiet. Quiet enough that Kara had granted herself a moment of peace. The snow that had been gathering in the clouds was falling all around them by now, melting just with one touch on Kara’s skin.

They both had gifts for each other; Kara’s tucked into the pocket of her jeans, where it had been all night, and Lena’s was in the box she had pressed into Kara’s hands. Inside there had been painting supplies, carefully selected for colors that Lena knew Kara loved most, and a new drawing pad.

“So you don’t run out when you need them,” Lena had said, knowing how much Kara loved to pour whatever she was feeling into the art that she made on the nights when things got to be too hard. Kara had let her eyes drift over the colors Lena had spent time picking out, and wondered how much the other woman knew. There were royal blues, and deep, blood reds, and a small vial of green that Kara had seen shining from her own veins.

Kara had given Lena a key to her apartment. She had said, “You’ll always have a home with me, no matter what.” She’d meant every word, and the way Lena’s eyes had shone meant that she understood.

Only Alex had a spare key to her place. Alex, and now Lena. When she had pressed that key into Lena’s hand with both of her own, Kara had started to realize what that meant. She had been on the cusp of recognizing something big— about herself, about Lena, about the future— and that Christmas, standing in the soft snow with this stunning, miracle of a woman, Kara had been ready to take the leap.

And then Reign came.

Reign came, and Kara was almost killed.

Kara had been in a coma, fighting for her life inside her own mind, and Alex had told Lena that she was in bed with the flu. Maybe it was just a little white lie, well-intentioned and even merciful for Lena, who’d lost so many people in her life. And maybe when Kara was back on her feet, she laughed with Alex about J’onn having to impersonate her, because of course Lena would make her soup. Of course Lena would drop everything and go to Kara, because that was the kind of person she was: good and decent and caring.

But later, when Alex had left, shoulders loose after getting to talk and laugh with Kara as if the both of them hadn’t just been in mortal danger, Kara felt the implications of what happened sink uneasily to the bottom of her stomach. It made her sick.

She would have died without Lena knowing the truth. Lena, who she’d just trusted with a part of herself, gave her open access to the place Kara felt the most vulnerable— the most human. And yet there was an even bigger part of herself that Lena didn’t know about. She was patient with it, and had to navigate the heavy sadness that shimmered in Kara’s eyes sometimes without ever truly knowing what it was, but that wasn’t the half of it. Lena, who— if Kara had died by Reign’s hands— would have woken up on Christmas morning to the kind of news that rips out hearts, a key in her pocket that led to an empty apartment. The apartment of her dead, lying best friend. Lena would’ve found out who Kara really was and live with the truth of it.

Truth, being the thing that Kara knows with growing certainty will tear them apart from the inside. All because of her.

(Kara wonders now if that was the beginning of the end.)


	3. Chapter 3

_Don't take my arm too much,_

_Don't keep your hand in mine._

_Your hand feels so grand in mine._

_People will say we're in love!_

She was standing in line at her favorite bakery, nineteen minutes late to her planned lunch date with Lena and debating whether the other woman would prefer a muffin or a scone when she got the call from Alex. 

“Alex!” she chirped, going up on her tiptoes to see what donuts the bakers had placed out that morning. Kara didn’t think to pay attention to which phone she’d grabbed out of her bag, was in too good of a mood to realize that she’d just accidentally whipped out her advanced, bulletproof DEO phone instead of the one with the sky-blue phone case. “Do you think Lena will like an apple cinnamon or blueberry muffin more? I was running late out of Catco, and I-”

“-Kara,” Alex said, and her voice was too calm. It stopped Kara in her tracks. Even when she was talking to Supergirl, Alex was never this controlled. “I need you to meet me at Mercy General. As quickly as you can.”

“Why?” Kara asked, lowering her voice and stepping out of line, blindly trusting in her sister. “What’s going on? You’re in a hospital?”

“Yes-” Alex said, and Kara felt her stomach coil. Knowing that her sister was a DEO agent was one thing, but actually recognizing that Alex was in danger everyday was something that Kara didn’t like to think about. Alex must have sensed Kara’s sudden panic, because she switched gears. “I’m fine, Kara. I’m not hurt.”

It should’ve calmed Kara down, knowing that her sister wasn’t in trouble. But Alex’s voice was still slow, like it was struggling to hold back whatever news she really needed to tell Kara, and her heart stayed firmly in the pit of her stomach.

“Then what happened?” Kara asked, turning the corner and looking around for the nearest alleyway to duck into. Normally she didn’t like to rip off her civilian clothes in some random corner of the city— Alex and the DEO had helped set up secure spots around the city for her to change— but this seemed like an emergency. One ruined shirt didn’t seem important when Kara could tell that Alex was getting ready to tell her something awful.

“It’s Lena,” Alex revealed, and the way her voice wavered made Kara’s heart turn to ice. She shot up into the air still in her work pants, her shirt hanging open and buttons scattered on the street below. It didn’t matter whether or not her identity was exposed. Not when Lena’s name was said in that way.

… 

Mercy General was the top hospital in the city, with doctors and nurses and staff all considered to be at the prime of their careers and leaders in their fields. The research was groundbreaking, the machines were all new, and the facilities were spotless. It was a well-run, exuberantly-funded institution that did real good for the people of National City, which made sense— Lena Luthor owned it, after all.

Kara sat just outside Lena’s hospital room in her Supergirl suit, her knee bouncing under her cape, and clasping a cup of coffee in both hands. She wanted to ask Lena why a hospital as impressive as this one still had the worst cafeteria food in the world.

(She wanted to know why, if these doctors were supposed to be so smart and so good at their jobs, Lena was still so pale, so hurt, so small in her bed. Why she still hadn’t woken up.)

It had been a day and a half and Lena was still unconscious after the emergency procedures the surgeons had ordered. After she’d gotten that horrible call from Alex, Kara had arrived at the hospital within seconds, buttoning up her shirt just in time to see the doors close as the doctors rushed in someone, _Lena,_ through revolving doors. Her sister had called out her name then and Kara had turned to see Alex looking grim, her hands, boots, and jeans splattered with blood.

Earlier that afternoon, Lena had been on a call with Alex, negotiating a tech deal between LCorp and the DEO. Knowing Lena, who’d always been cautious about giving the government control of her prototypes, she’d probably meant it as an olive branch after everything that had happened with Reign and the Kryptonite. 

There had been a knock at the door. It was supposed to be Kara, laden with bags of food and an arm extended for a quick hug, like always. And so Lena unlocked her office doors without checking the security footage, without seeing the slumped, knocked out figure of Jess out in the lobby. Lena didn’t see any of that, because she thought that her best friend was here, and a big smile was already making itself known on her face.

(Lena always let her guard down when it came to Kara. Only with Kara. Because never in a million years did Lena associate Kara Danvers with danger; she was _safe_ for Lena, or at least was supposed to be.)

It wasn’t Kara. It should’ve been, but it wasn’t.

Alex was the only reason Lena hadn’t died right there in her office. Lena had waited to hang up the phone, probably figuring that Kara would want to say hi to her sister. But because Kara was still halfway across the city, getting sucked into a conversation with Tim from HR about his daughter selling Girl Scout cookies, of all things, it was the other Danvers sister who heard the faint sound of Lena gasp when a stranger pushed through the doors. It was Alex, not Kara, who heard the tinny pop of gunfire through the speaker of her phone, and immediately rushed to LCorp with a medic’s bag. It was Alex who saw Lena motionless in a rapidly growing pool of red, and stopped the bleeding as well as she could.

Alex helped load Lena into the ambulance, and she rode with her all the way to Mercy, and she told the doctors everything she knew. Alex had done everything she possibly could to save Lena’s life, and then it had also been Alex who had held Kara tight as she sobbed in the bathroom of the waiting room. 

Kara should’ve been there. She’d promised that she always would be. And now, the one time she wasn’t, Lena had been shot, her office torn apart, and her attacker had disappeared into the wind.

(At least Kara could take some solace in the fact that it was Alex that had been there. Alex, who had refused to trust fully in Lena Luthor for years. It wasn’t until Sam, and Ruby, and Reign that Alex realized that Lena’s intentions were always good. As her trust solidified, Kara could feel hers crack and strain.)

It had been surreal, flying into the hospital and learning that she had been too late. It still was surreal now, nearly two days later. Lena almost died. She might still be dying, all because Kara had spent too much time picking out what she wanted to eat for lunch. It sounded like something out of a bizarre dream, but this hospital, the feel of the plastic chair molding under her restless fingers, the rasp of Lena’s breathing through the door? It was all real, and Kara wished more than anything she could escape it.

Now Kara was torn between here in this bleak, white hallway, waiting for Lena to wake up, and off in National City, taking out her anger and helplessness on something besides this waiting room chair. She’d only just returned from the DEO, high on adrenaline and anger and too emotional to bother changing back into her civilian clothes. There was so much going on in the world— robberies, and bombings, and a nasty earthquake in Chile, but Supergirl was here. So what if the hospital staff sent her lingering, curious looks from behind their desks? They were all on Lena’s payroll anyway, and were probably the last people who wanted to see her near-death or vulnerable in any way that could put the hospital in danger. The fact that Supergirl was slouched outside her room, basically puppy guarding the main financier of the place was probably cause for relief, no matter how strange it was that a Super was visibly concerned about a Luthor. 

They’d found the guy who did it. Alex did, actually, because it seemed like she was the only one capable of saving the day, while Kara was still just as useless as before. Alex called Kara in for the interrogation, despite knowing that Supergirl wasn’t in the greatest of head spaces at the moment. She left the hospital immediately, arriving at the DEO with a thud that could be felt across the building. The other agents kept their heads down, while J’onn kept his distance— even if they didn’t know Kara or Supergirl personally, they knew enough to realize that something was going down, and it was best to stay out of the Kryptonian’s way.

“Where is he?” she growled, passing Alex in a whirlwind and leaving her sister to jog to catch up. Her eyes were already glowing red.

“Kara,” her sister warned, trying to keep up. “There’s something you should know.” She reached out a hand in an attempt to stop her from entering the room, but Kara wasn’t stopping for anything. 

“I’ll find out whatever I need to myself.” Snarling, she opened the door, relishing in the way the hinges groaned and the heartbeat of whoever was inside picked up.

She stalked into the room and froze, all of her fire extinguished abruptly. The big, bad man who had nearly killed her best friend didn’t look older than fifteen, and it was obvious that he’d been crying. 

The security footage of him had been circulating around the DEO, and sure, she’d glanced at it, but seeing him in person was jarring— and as much as she hated herself for thinking it, infuriating. Kara had been hoping for someone despicable, someone so evil she wouldn’t have any qualms about roughing the guy up a bit before locking him up and throwing away the key. The truth stung worse. He wasn’t a hired gun or someone with a vendetta against Lena or the Luthors. He was just a kid, actually, on his own, looking scared and tiny in the interrogation room that had been prepped. His hands were visibly shaking against the metal table, and his wrists were skinny enough that the cuffs were on their tightest notch. 

How could Kara take out her hurt on a kid? She couldn’t help but see flashes of Lena in her post-op surgery gown, looking as frail and vulnerable as this boy. He needed compassion, not fury, Kara had to be the one to give it to him. She was Supergirl, after all— this was why she became a hero in the first place. It wasn’t to be a bully, to prove someone like Lex right by controlling the world around her through brute strength and intimidation. Supergirl was kindness, hope, and empathy. He didn’t deserve her rage, and Kara knew it. So her own anger about Lena was added to the increasingly heavy weight on her shoulders, and Kara managed a tired smile.

“My name is Kara Zor-El,” she said, her eyes losing their heat as well as their tears. “What’s yours?”

(Hope, help, and compassion for all. That was what she stood by, no matter the cost to herself.)

The boy’s story, _Daniel’s story,_ only made the entire situation sadder. He’d been on his own for years, living in the streets. For a while, he’d been able to manage, but these past few years with the amounts of attacks and forced relocations due to damage done to the city, it had become harder and harder to survive. He had gotten desperate enough to do something drastic. So, he thought of Lena Luthor.

“Why?” Kara asked, still searching for some justification for the whole ordeal. There must be a good reason for what happened to Lena.

Daniel just shrugged, keeping his head down and reaching for the tissues Kara had asked to be brought in. “Because everybody I knew talked about her and her family. About how she was trying to change things. But mostly, about how rich she was.”

It was true that most people in the city knew about Lena Luthor. For Daniel’s social circles in particular, she must have been famous, personally bankrolling aid and outreach programs for the poor. Kara herself had covered the Luthor Foundation’s food shelves and clothing drives extensively. And then there was the matter of how prolific Lena’s company was—and how financially powerful. 

(The worst part was that if Lena had known about his situation, Kara was sure that she’d help the boy herself, out of her own pocket, if he’d just asked for help. Instead, he was scared enough to bring a gun, bluff his way inside, steal whatever tech he could find, and sell it on the black market.)

“She’s Lex Luthor’s sister. My friends told me that no one would miss her,” Daniel sniffled, looking up. He was pleading for something— forgiveness? Understanding? Benevolence? Kara was trying, Rao, she was trying, but everything the boy was saying just broke her heart more. “They were wrong, though. She was too nice not to be missed by somebody.”

(Kara had watched the footage dozens of times. Lena, good, frustratingly good Lena, tried to reason with her attacker each time, no matter how much Kara hoped the video would somehow change. Lena smiled every time, even if it flickered when he took out the gun. She didn’t go for her taser, or hit her panic button, or lash out in any way. There was no act of aggression, even if it would have been considered self-defense. Perhaps it was because, like Kara, she knew she couldn’t do that to a boy so young and lost.)

“It was an accident, I swear. A mistake. She stood up, and I just freaked.”

“She’s okay. Everything will be okay,” Kara said, hiding the lie between clenched teeth. Her empathy could only go so far. In her heart, Kara knew that the kid probably never wanted to hurt anybody, but Lena was laid out on a stretcher in front of her now, weak and in pain and vulnerable. Her blood was on his hands just as much as it was on Kara’s.

“Will you tell her that I’m sorry?” Daniel asked, and he was crying in earnest now. All Kara could do was nod, and lean over the table so she could take his hands in hers. They were trembling underneath her palms, and not for the first time, Kara wanted to scream at the unfairness of it all.

Two agents came in soon after, unlocking the cuffs and helping Daniel stand up on unsteady legs. She didn’t know what would happen to him from here, couldn’t promise him a second chance free of consequences. But with Supergirl behind him, there would always be hope. In Daniel’s case, a hope for change, and a better life.

(She should have felt good about what she did. But she didn’t; she returned to the hospital, sunk into the chair, and couldn’t escape the feeling of guilt. For Lena or Daniel, she wasn’t sure. Perhaps for not being there in time to save either one of them.)

Any other thoughts disappeared, however, when Kara heard the subtle shift in Lena’s respiration rate and knew she was waking up. She blew into the room, narrowly avoiding tearing the door off of its hinges, and teetered off to the side, waiting for Lena to fully open her eyes. 

When she did, her green eyes were unusually dull, murky with fatigue and drugs that the doctors had promised Kara would ward off the worst of the pain. Lena Luthor looked rumpled and confused for the first time maybe ever, and the sight nearly brought tears to Kara’s eyes. Lena may be weak, and looked miles away from her usual polished self, but she was _alive._ Her name didn’t have to join Kara’s list of the dead. She may be embarrassed later about the state of her wardrobe, brushing off this scare with a roll of her eyes, but Kara was just happy to see her.

She cleared her throat after another minute or so of Lena acclimating to her new surroundings, and Lena’s head whipped around at the sound. This caused a fit of coughing, and her heart rate to accelerate, and before she could draw in another rasping breath, Kara was back at her side, a glass of water held in shaky hands. 

An arched brow raised even higher at Kara’s unsteadiness, but Lena accepted the water gratefully and finished it in one long drink. When she was done, Lena turned to Kara, the coughing stopped but her heart still thrashing against her ribcage. Kara wondered if she should call in a nurse, because she had thought Lena would want to see her, but it seems as if Kara was only making things worse.

“Supergirl?” Lena asked, with just a hint of venom in her voice, as everything clicked into focus. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Kara relaxed just as much as she recoiled, reminded very painfully of the fact that she wasn’t Kara Danvers right now, but Supergirl. And Supergirl and Lena were in the midst of a very tense, heated fight, the cracks in their relationship still very much there even though Reign was long defeated. And yet, despite all that, Kara fought off a relieved, teary smile, because she was just glad to hear Lena’s voice.

She couldn’t hide all of the tears, however, because Lena narrowed her eyes, taking in Supergirl’s anxious, shaken appearance, and something must have occurred to her because Lena attempted to get out of the hospital bed, stopped only by Kara’s gentle but unmoving pressure on her shoulder.

“Stay still. The doctors don’t want you moving very much after your operation, and besides, you lost a lot of blood. I think that it’s in your best interests to listen to them.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.” Lena glowered at the hand on her shoulder but heeded Kara’s advice, sinking back into the pillow with a huff and what Kara was sure was a brave face to hide the pain. “Any of my questions, for that matter. What happened?”

“Lena,” Kara started carefully, knowing that everyone reacted to trauma differently. The last thing she wanted was to upset Lena now. “You were… there was a robbery, and you were- you were shot.”

“Oh,” Lena replied, as if this was news to her. She brought her opposite hand up to her bandaged shoulder, where Kara knew the bullet had hit. She’d watched it hit over and over and over again, knew that it had nearly cut into the brachial artery. She knew that Lena had been inches from death.

“What do you remember?” Kara asked— adrenaline and near death experiences did strange things to human memory.

Keeping a hand pressed to the bandages, Lena tried moving her shoulder, grimacing when she reached the limit of her range of motion. “It all happened so fast,” she said, thinking hard. “I was in my office, finishing up my paperwork, and I called Jess for something, but she didn’t answer. I was waiting for Kara, because she was supposed to…” 

Lena’s words ground to a halt suddenly, and Kara could hear her breathing stop too. The blood drained from her already pale face, and she pressed trembling fingers to her mouth. This was more than a simple lapse in memory— Lena had just thought of something terrible, and Kara wasn’t sure what it was.

“Oh my God,” Lena whispered, and tears flooded her eyes. “Oh God. Where’s Kara?”

Supergirl took too long figuring out a believable answer, and Lena took the silence as something else entirely, because her shoulders began to shake and the tears began to fall now. “Lena,” Kara tried, but it seemed like her words were falling on deaf ears.

“No! No, you- you were supposed to protect her,” Lena hissed, her newfound anger masking the sobs that were threatening to spill out. She tried once more to get out of the bed, this time in a clumsy lunge right at Supergirl’s crest. Kara batted it away and did her best to restrain the other woman. “You promised me that you would protect her. No matter what. That was our agreement!”

“Wait-”

“-I should’ve realized, I should’ve gone out to check. Kara never misses our lunches without calling, and I was too distracted-”

“If you’d just listen, she isn’t-”

“God, it’s my fault. It’s all my fault and now she’s gone, and what am I going to-?”

“Kara is alive!” Supergirl yelled, loud enough that the rest of the hospital wing probably heard it. In any case, it was enough to put a stop to Lena’s grief-stricken spiral, who looked at her with red eyes and an open mouth. It was the most vulnerable Lena Luthor had ever been around Supergirl, and Kara hated that it was because she believed that she’d died.

(She refused to think about the fact, at least in that moment, that Lena automatically blamed herself for Kara’s death, because if something ever did happen, well. Kara never wanted to add more guilt to Lena’s heart, and here was confirmation that she could.)

“She’s okay?” Lena asked with a pleading lilt to her tone, like she still couldn’t believe it. Like she needed proof. “Where- I mean, is she hurt?”

(Lena assumed that Kara would be there waiting for her when she woke up. Kara Danvers was the person that Lena _wanted_ in that old waiting room chair, and that touched Kara as much as it ached, because she _was_ there. She’d never really left— except, this side of her? Lena couldn’t stand her this way. She didn’t want Supergirl by her bedside.)

“No, she wasn't injured. It was just you,” Supergirl said, the truth almost worse. Perhaps if she had been hurt, if she had some legitimate reason for why she didn’t stop this from happening, she’d be able to get those horrible images out of her head. “Alex- Agent Danvers made her go home, take a break. She hadn’t left the hospital in days.”

Technically, this was true, even if Kara felt guilty about twisting it. Kara Danvers hadn’t left the hospital since she first arrived— but Supergirl had. Supergirl had been chasing leads, and performing her necessary saves, and slinking back to the hospital whenever she could, sliding on her glasses and not caring if she still had soot on her cheek. James had known better than to expect Kara back at Catco any time soon, so in her spare time Kara Danvers was pacing the hallways and staring off into space listening to the different monitors, unable to sleep. Unfortunately for her, this was the one time she had been too busy to change back into her civilian clothes.

“Oh,” Lena said again, and she wrapped her arms around herself at the thought of Kara being safe, if not sleep deprived and worried. “Then why are you here?”

It came out harshly even for Lena’s standards when dealing with Supergirl, but Kara brushed it off, blaming it on the toll of the surgeries. “I was only just swinging by, actually. The DEO and I just apprehended your assailant, and I was hoping you would be awake so you could ID him.” She pulled up a picture of Daniel and handed it over lamely. It was a bad excuse, but she didn’t have any other options.

Lena nodded just once as confirmation, and Kara turned off the phone. Feeling brave, and unable to hide her clear concern for another second, she decided to be a little more honest. “Besides,” she said. “I wanted to make sure that you were okay.”

“How _courteous_ ,” she said, and the vitriol dripped from the words. “Here to put a tracker around my ankle while I was out?”

“I would never do that. You know that.”

“Do I?” Lena asked, and from the dubious look in her eyes, maybe Lena didn’t. “I thought I did know you, Supergirl, but it seems I was wrong.”

“This isn’t the time for us to discuss-”

“What I do know, Supergirl, is that this attack is proof of everything that I tried to tell you.” Lena jabbed her hand against the new stitches as proof, and Kara didn’t like where this was going. “Us humans are vulnerable every second of our lives. This time, it was a bullet. Next time, maybe it’ll be a car crash, or a fire, or a disease. I can lose my life in a moment, but I don’t lock myself away. I’ll go back to work, and unlike you, I’ll face the unknown without fear.”

“I thought we came to an understanding about kryptonite,” Kara snapped, reflexively fighting back even if it was Lena, because she’d almost lost her and that thought made her knees buckle. The reminder of an even bigger weakness of hers was unwelcome, not when she was already feeling so vulnerable.

“Did we?”

With her temper steadily boiling, Kara ground her foot against the linoleum floor. “Yes! You know how I feel about the fact that you can make your own kryptonite! It could so easily get into the wrong hands. Look at you now! What if that man had bigger plans than just petty theft, huh? If that formula gets out, not only am I in danger, the entire city is.”

“You’re in danger every day of the week, Supergirl, and my kryptonite helped protect this city from Reign when we needed it to.”

“And now Reign is gone! Now the only threat that your kryptonite poses is against me, Lena, and I can’t allow someone to hold it over my head.”

“I won’t destroy that formula. You’re not the only Kryptonian out there, Supergirl. Reign showed us that. My work is the best hope we have against someone like her, no matter the danger it poses for you.” Lena took in a breath, sending over a glare that probably should have cut deeper had Kara not been reminded of how much pain Lena was likely in at the moment. “Sometimes, we need to take risks in the name of the greater good. We put our lives on the line if it means helping someone. Funny, I thought you understood that.” 

Flashes of Lena, posture open and reaching out for Daniel’s hand, poured into Kara’s mind, and she flinched.

“I… I won’t do this. Not like this.” Kara pressed her lips together in a thin line, refusing to rise to the bait. This was Lena’s exhausted, scrambled mind trying to pick a fight to distract herself from what happened, and she wouldn’t play any part in it. “I’m sorry for what happened to you, and I’m sorry for trespassing. I’ll let you rest now.” She turned away from the bed, and strode towards the doorway. Kara paused right before passing the frame.

“Just so you know, Lena,” she added. “I’ve always thought that humans are brave. More than I could ever be. And you might be one of the bravest.”

… 

She forced herself to wait at least an hour or so before returning to the hospital as Kara Danvers. It made sense in her head; even if she, as Kara Danvers, had only just found out now that Lena was awake, she’d have to navigate traffic, or race to find a bus, and in National City, traffic killed— unless you were Supergirl. As far as Lena knew, Kara couldn’t fly, so that was why she was stalling for time. At least, that was the reason she was telling herself.

In between, she flew aimlessly across the bay, updating Alex and texting Sam and trying not to think about what Lena had said to Supergirl. It was getting harder and harder to ignore the fact that Kara’s two identities were being pulled in opposite directions when it came to her. On one hand, Kara Danvers had never been closer with the other woman, but Supergirl? She was worried that Lena may never look at Supergirl in the same way again, and that was a problem. How could she even consider telling Lena the truth when there was such a distinct line drawn in the sand? 

No, Kara knew that before the truth could come out, Supergirl needed to earn Lena’s forgiveness. And for someone as good at holding grudges as Lena Luthor was, that could be a long time.

A familiar boat was sitting in the harbor, and Kara decided to visit. “Hal?” she called out, staying in the air and hoping she remembered the right boat. Sure enough, a familiar face popped out from the cabin, looking a little more grizzled than before, but still lit up by the jollyness that had drawn Kara to him in the first place.

“By stars. Is that Kara Zor-El’s voice I hear?” The rest of his body followed, and soon enough Kara was pulled onto the deck and into a tight hug, him laughing all the while. “Decided to pay an old fisherman a visit, I see— though as a warning, my nets haven’t had much luck of late. I won’t be feeding yer appetite today.” It was impossible not to at least crack a smile; despite all of the strain she had been under these past few days, she welcomed the chance to cheer up.

This was Hal, after all: a Galadorian refugee who’d come to earth centuries before Kara or Kal. Galadorians lived lifespans that were thousands of earth years, and comparatively, Hal was old for his species—someone who’d been through terrible pain and loss and like so many other aliens, had come to earth for a second chance. Kara had helped him out for the first time in her early days as Supergirl, rescuing him and his sinking boat from a dangerous storm, and returning in the morning to repair the damages. They understood each other after a few hours of conversation where Kara could spend years with others and never reach that same mutual acknowledgement. He had seen just as much if not more than what Kara had, and if he could remain energetic in his last few years, then Kara could muster up a small smile and wave.

(Like Kara, he was a strange mix of earth and otherness, holding the reflection of a dozen galaxies in his eyes beneath a weathered, human face, wrinkles and all. He was the sort of man, wise and true, who could’ve been found in a story her Aunt Astra told her on Krypton as well as in the well-loved storybooks Eliza had read to her during thunderstorms.)

“Don’t worry about my stomach, Hal,” she said, rocking back on her heels and clapping the alien on the back once more before breaking away from the embrace. “I can’t stay long anyways.”

“Oh really? A long day for Supergirl, huh? Busy saving lives, I suppose.”

Kara’s stomach bottomed out, and Hal’s face grew concerned. Kara wondered what had given her away until she remembered one of his many quirks; though humanoid in appearance, Hal was an empath, and could read the emotions of anyone in his vicinity. It was why he normally preferred his solitude out in the open water, without the chance of feeling something truly awful. She had a feeling that one of the reasons Hal tried to be so nice to her is because that day she’d helped him, he had.

“What’s the matter, kid?” The boat teetered to one side then back as Hal moved closer, his extremely dense body with Earth’s gravity making his boat struggle to stay afloat. Still, he was used to it by now, and placed himself just so; the boat straightened out, and he was able to reach and place a hand on Kara’s shoulder. Together, they took a seat towards the prow, overlooking the green sea. “You know I’m no gossip. If there’s something on your mind, I’m the best ears you could find in this entire bay.”

Kara felt another smile bubble to the surface despite the gloominess she was feeling. Hal had an endearing habit of never taking himself too seriously— a product, Kara supposed, of living long enough that you lose your sense of self-importance. If there was anyone here who could give her a reasonable, unbiased insight into how she was feeling, it would be the man who’d been living for centuries. 

“Have you ever lied to someone? For years?” she asked, turning towards the Galadorian.

“Well, there was one time I told this fella to try growing out a beard. It was a horrendous thing; he had too young of a face to be taken seriously with whiskers like mine.” Hal scratched his own chin at the memory. “Anyways, on my word, he stopped shaving, and I felt too responsible for the lad’s confidence to say nothing about it.”

It was a silly, absurd substitute for Kara’s situation, but she tried running with it. “So you felt all of that guilt, and shame for years, and just kept it bottled up inside? Did you ever tell him?”

“Sure I did, when he was about to marry his sweetheart. Bless her heart, she was too lovestruck to care about the sad state of his face, but I knew I had to step in then.” Hal shot her a look that was more serious than his story, and Kara knew she’d been caught. “I did it because I thought it was the best for all involved, including myself. But what’s this really about?”

“Nothing! I- I just think that I’ve got myself a similar situation.”

“Knowing you, Supergirl, I can’t imagine your problems are ever as simple as telling some poor boy to shave.”

Kara scoffed at that, and her shoulders slumped. “No, they’re not,” she said, looking back across the bay towards where the hospital is, hidden by dozens of skyscrapers. If she wanted to, she could look through all of them, right into Lena’s room, but she wouldn’t. She knew exactly what she would see— Lena all alone, sitting up slowly in her bed, clutching her shoulder and glancing at the clock. She would wonder where Kara was, if she was going to come back. And Kara wanted nothing more than to materialize at her side as Kara Danvers, best friend, and gather Lena into a tight hug that Supergirl had no right giving, and maybe let out some of the pent up emotions that had been keeping Kara awake at night, but she couldn’t. Not until she could play the part convincingly— without the hurt of everything Supergirl had done weighing her down.

“There’s someone… that I want to protect more than anything in the world,” she said after a moment’s silence. “She is good, and righteous, and everything great in my life, but she doesn’t know my secret. And even once I got to know her, and trusted her, I still kept it from her because I thought it would keep her safe. Now, she’s hurt anyways, and I can’t help but feel like if she’d known I could’ve stopped it somehow. Even if she hated me for it.”

“If she is as good as you say, why would she hate you for your secret?” Hal asked, and Kara had to focus on the infinite stretch of the ocean to avoid being sucked back into old memories. 

“The relationships that I have with her with me as my secret identity versus me as Supergirl are… very different,” she said with a sigh. “I treated her badly as Supergirl, leapt to conclusions too quickly, and lost her trust. I can’t take it back. But that other part of me? She loves it so dearly, and I don’t want to take that away from her.”

“I see. So my story wasn’t exactly what you were hoping for.” Hal chuckled, leaning back on the bench they were seated on and thinking. He took off his patched, salt-stained cap and twisted it as the silence grew. “Though, from what I can tell, you’re no different than my old friend’s wife.”

“What?” Kara asked with a sharp noise of disbelief. “That isn’t- it’s not like _that._ Between us.”

(Looking back, Kara can understand the rueful, patient smile that Hal sent down towards his feet. Because he spent lifetimes understanding the depth of what people felt for each other, and there is no doubt in Kara’s mind that he knew what love felt like. But he stayed silent, letting Kara figure it out in her own time.)

“Please, Kara. Just bear with me and leave an old man to his analogies, would you?” At her confused assent, Hal continued on. “You care about this person, and you want more than anything to do what’s in her best interests. In other words, you’re willing to overlook the patchy beard because you want this woman to be _happy_.”

“But I’m the one that’s lying, and making all these mistakes. Not her.”

“Maybe so. But your identity is who you are, Kara Zor-El, and you’re used to hiding it. It’s in your nature. You know, I can normally feel the weight of the world when somebody has it on their back, but you… you’re too used to carrying it. I forget. It’s a part of you, putting other people first, just as much as your secret is. That is why you can’t decide what to do.”

“You’re saying that… what? That I’m going to be stuck like this forever, trying to decide between these two impossible choices?”

“Remember that lucky man’s wife, who didn’t care what happened as long as her love was hers? We don’t get to choose what we love— or _who_. We just don’t get to choose.” Hal stood up, and Kara with him, still holding her breath and hoping that this man who’d seen everything would have a clear answer. “What we can do is decide how we show it.”

“That’s not an answer,” she complained weakly, knowing that someone like Hal was never going to give her the solution that she wanted. This was advice that Kara doubted she’d ever understand, not until whatever happened passed and she was looking back from the other side. “I just don’t want to hurt her anymore than I already have.”

“I don’t know this woman, but I suspect that she deserves a little bit of rest,” he replied, bending down and gathering up his nets once again. “As do you, Supergirl. I can feel it groaning in your bones,” he added over his shoulder. “So maybe what’s best is to give yourselves that time to grow more sure. Don’t forget, but try to worry about it when you’re both strong enough to reckon with it.”

Some of what he said Kara didn’t want to begin thinking about, but she agreed with his advice at its most basic. “Okay,” she said, and maybe she didn’t find a path out of this mess emerge from the fog, but Hal was right. She couldn’t keep torturing herself with this while she should be by Lena’s side. Maybe she wasn’t there to save her this time, but she could be there for the aftermath. She could be there for Lena’s sake. “I should go back.”

Hal chuckled, shaking his head at her, the way an old man would at the antics of someone younger and more reckless. Kara guessed that that was exactly what was happening. “I hope you’ll learn to listen to _all_ of my advice someday, but I suppose it’s too much to ask for Supergirl to think about herself for once.”

“Sorry,” she said, not feeling all that guilty. Kara put others first. She always had. That was who she was, and intentional or not, Hal had reminded her of that fact. She could deal with the matter of her secret some other time, but right now there was someone she needed to see. “Thanks for the talk anyway. It’s good to talk to someone that- someone who-”

“Understands?” Hal finished for her, and Kara squeezed his shoulder one more time in parting.

“Exactly. Now if you excuse me, I need to go do this.” She let her toes leave the ground, turning around once more to give Hal a finger salute. She didn’t feel lighter, but perhaps a little more steadfast. Reminded of the hope that she wore on her chest. “If you ever need me, just call.”

“Aye, Supergirl,” he said, his eyes crinkling in the setting sun. He raised a hand of his own in a goodbye, then went back to his pipe and the rope coiled on the deck. “Go get yer girl.”

Kara flew off, blaming the wind for the warmth she felt on her face. She could deal with everything else later. Right now, she wanted to see her best friend.

… 

Sam was there when Kara got back, freshly changed into a wrinkled sweatshirt, jeans, and muddy boots that in all honesty, she’d just picked up from her apartment floor. Her heavy steps faltered as she rounded the corner and saw the other woman talking in hushed tones with a nurse; she didn’t know when Sam had gotten here from Metropolis, or for how long she was staying, but Kara didn’t care. Sam was here, and Lena needed whatever support she could get. Kara needed whatever she could get.

“Hey,” she said, bringing the other woman into a quick, crushing hug. Sam gave her a tired smile, and Kara understood. Lena was alive. She’d survived, but only barely. Those days of dread and uncertainty had taken its toll. “I’m so glad you’re here,” she finished, and meant it.

“So, it’s true, then?” Sam asked, holding Kara by the shoulders and giving her a once-over. “What Lena and your sister have been telling me.”

“You’ve talked to Lena?” Kara replied, ignoring whatever Sam was hinting at for the moment. It felt like she should have been in that room hours ago; Kara Danvers should have been the one there as Lena woke up. “Is she-? How was she?”

“Honestly, Kara? She looks better than you do right now, and that’s saying something.” Sam leaned in closer with narrowed eyes, scrutinizing the dark bags under Kara’s eyes. “I thought Alex was exaggerating, but damn. Lena said you’d been sent home. Didn’t you sleep?”

Somehow, Sam, who Kara had only known for a year, was invested in her well being when Lena was right there. When Lena had been shot. Lena had been shot, and for some reason, everyone was talking about Kara instead. Something about it rubbed Kara the wrong way, and because she was exhausted, and stretched to her limits both physically and emotionally, Kara couldn’t help but let some of her frustration flare up.

“How could I?” she snapped, stepping away from the other woman’s concerned touch and making sure to hide the tremble in her hands. “I need to be here. I should’ve been here when she woke up.”

“Hey. I get it,” Sam soothed. “It’s been hard for me, too, and I was in a different city when it happened. I can’t imagine how stressful it’s been, but—” She grabbed Kara’s shoulders again— “There are other people here now. We want to help. Don’t think you need to do this alone.”

“ _We?_ ” Kara asked, focusing on that, because while she appreciated the sentiment, it didn’t mean anything beyond superficial relief. At the end of the day, Kara hadn’t been there to protect Lena, and no amount of kind words could change that. 

“James is in there with her now. I figured I’d give the two of them some privacy.”

She didn’t think it was possible, but another surge of guilt hit. This entire time, she hadn’t thought of James once, even if him and Lena were dating. She had been stressed out, and hyper-focused on Lena and Lena only, but she should have called Lena’s boyfriend. Maybe it was because Kara was still trying to shift her perspective, to see them as a pair and being important in each other’s lives, but she just wasn’t used to it. 

(If she was honest with herself, Kara had never understood why the two of them were together in the first place.)

No matter the reasons, Kara felt selfish, felt like she had taken what had happened to Lena and made it about herself. “James. Great,” she said, suddenly doubting if she should be there at all. Lena had James now, her boyfriend, and Sam, one of her oldest, most steadfast friends. There wasn't a need for the girl who’d been lying to Lena’s face to be anywhere near here. 

“She’s been asking for you,” Sam commented, as if she’d read Kara’s mind. “I think it would do her some good, seeing you.”

“I mean, if James is already here… I don’t want to intrude-”

“Kara. It’ll do you some good too. Just stop acting noble and get in that damn room.”

With a no-nonsense tone like that, Kara didn’t know how Ruby ever had the guts to act out. She swallowed hard and nodded, straightening her back and pulling Sam into one last hug. “Thank you for being here,” she said, hushed in the way that all words that carry too much meaning are. 

“I wouldn’t be anywhere else.” Sam smoothed out the back of Kara’s sweatshirt; she looked as beautiful as ever, if not a little windswept. Tired, certainly— but still exuding that grace that Kara would forever associate with her. 

“Okay,” Kara said, more for herself than anyone else. She couldn’t even bring herself to care that Sam was watching her take in a deep breath and psych herself up— there was no denying that Kara was running on frayed nerves, and she needed a moment to compose herself. Lena deserved to see her at her best, so Kara waited just another moment.

Then Alex called.

Alex called, and Kara sheepishly excused herself to an empty hallway, wedging herself between a vending machine and an ice dispenser. Sam’s lip had curled up at the sight of the caller ID, and she let Kara run off without protest. She knew Kara would be back.

But then Kara got more bad news.

“The quake in Chile… it’s bad. The president down there declared a national emergency, and Kara— they’re asking for your help.”

There was no question in what Kara’s answer would be; if someone, somewhere, needed her, she would come— no matter what. Even if her best friend was sitting and waiting for her in a hospital bed. 

“How soon do they need me?” she asked, closing her eyes and tilting her head back against the wall. She couldn’t look at Lena’s open door right now. She knew that if she wanted, she could walk through that door, wrap Lena in a tight hug, and forget about the crest underneath her shirt. Lena wouldn’t know any better— she didn’t even know the kind of responsibility Kara wore on her chest. But it wasn’t that simple. Kara wouldn’t just forget, even if it was for Lena.

“As soon as possible.” Her sister took in a deep breath, leaving Kara to hear the heavy footsteps of DEO agents all around her. “I’m sorry. I know this hasn’t been easy-”

“It’s okay,” Kara said, and no matter how heavy she felt when she said it, she meant it. She was Supergirl first; that was why she’d been sent to Earth. She wouldn’t just forsake the fates of innocent people for her own selfish interests. “It’s what I’m here for. I’ll take off in two minutes, and report back once I get down there.” She glanced at Sam— still out in the hallway, watching the breaking news coverage of the situation. 

Kara didn’t know how she was going to explain her way out of this one.

“Send me more details when I get down there, okay?” she continued, squaring her shoulders and preparing to put on an act. “I need to tell Sam.”

“What are you going to say?”

“I have no idea,” she answered truthfully, before saying a quick goodbye and shoving her phone deep into her pocket.

When she rounded the corner and walked forwards with sinking shoulders, it was like Sam already had an inkling as to what was about to happen. Her eyebrows rose at the tensed set to Kara’s muscles, and even Kara knew that she couldn’t hide the somber, heavy look in her eyes behind a smile or a nod.

Sam was going to come to her own conclusions no matter what, and Kara had to deal with the consequences.

Kara waited until she was face to face with Sam before even taking in a breath to talk. She had hoped that sometime along the way she would come up with an explanation— maybe she left her oven on? Forgot to pay her parking ticket? Had been placed into witness protection?None of her potential excuses would even begin to sway someone as intuitive and sharp as Sam. And it wasn’t like there was anything besides the truth that would justify Kara ditching Lena in her hospital bed. 

By the time Sam had reached out and squeezed her bicep, Kara’s mind was blank. She swallowed hard at the contact, and Sam’s concerned face swam into view. Kara blinked hard, not understanding why her vision had gotten so fuzzy or why, if she reached out for Sam, she was afraid she would crush the woman’s bones.

“Kara? Are you okay?” Sam asked as Kara lurched forwards. She tried to respond but found all of her breath snatched away. The walls seemed tighter and more constricting than before, and all Kara could think about was the look on Lena’s face if Kara never came back. If Lena would go home, return to normal, and ask herself why her best friend never visited. How could Kara keep up this balancing act when it was hurting the people she loved most? The truth and its impending nature seemed suffocating suddenly, and Kara’s hands went automatically to her own throat as she stumbled forwards.

Thank Rao for the other woman, because Kara would have collapsed right in front of Lena’s open hospital door— and there would be no explaining her way out of that— had Sam not intervened. She wrestled an arm across the small of Kara’s back and managed to guide her back to the vending machines, the both of them sliding to the floor. Sam chose not to comment on how inhumanly dense Kara was, and slid forward on her knees instead, getting in front of Kara and taking charge.

“Okay, Kara, I think you’re having a panic attack. I’m going to have you breathe with me, alright?” Sam took her gently by the wrist and took her pulse, while never breaking eye contact. Kara listened even through the haze, trying her best to do what Sam said. She took in as much air as she could and followed along with the other woman, releasing it in the same slow, steady way that Sam was. 

Sam smiled and spoke again. “Good. Now, relax your muscles.” She reached down and grabbed one of Kara’s tightly curled fists, and Kara closed her eyes, because she would never forgive herself if she hurt Sam now. “Let’s start with the hands, right?”

Heavy footsteps closed in behind them, and of course Kara immediately leapt to Lena. She didn’t know what she would do if _Lena_ was the one to see her like this, when it was supposed to be Kara who was looking after her. But then she squinted her eyes and felt a pair of warm, calloused, familiar hands land carefully on either side of her face, and she locked gazes with the concerned protective eyes of James Olsen.

“Kara?” he called out, tilting her chin up gently and studying her neck— checking for the green, bulging veins that came from kryptonite exposure. When he could find no evidence of physical harm, he turned to Sam, who was still gently massaging Kara’s arm as her muscles tried to unlock. “Sam, what’s going on?”

“Panic attack,” Sam answered, keeping her voice hushed. The hallway seemed quieter than ever, and Kara wondered if Lena was conscious enough to hear them all outside. “I’m pretty sure it’s on its last legs. She’s on her way back down.”

“I didn’t know Kara could get panic attacks,” James muttered, more to himself than anyone else, but Sam heard anyway and sent him an odd look. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she answered, rubbing Kara’s back as she sat forwards at last, taking a few more heaving breaths before finally stilling. “You’re good now, okay Kara? We’ve got you. Take your time.”

When she finally blinked the last of the dots out of her vision, Kara pinched her nose hard. Avoiding looking at Sam, she tried to get up, only to be stopped by two sets of worried hands and an overwhelming wave of fatigue that rushed through her system. She sat back down with a huff, and finally glanced at her audience.

Kara hated panic attacks, but more than that, she hated feeling weak. This past year had been awful; she scorned her own humanity, and lost pieces of herself in the process. All of that came from a fear of vulnerability. Kara stopped caring about Kara Danvers because she knew people could tell when Kara Danvers was hurting. Supergirl could face death and violence and darkness and not even flinch, so of course Kara would rather be her.

Alex had brought her back. _Lena_ had brought her back, reminding Kara that her best friend only knew that human side of her, with all of its aching. She couldn’t do that to Lena, so slowly, Kara Danvers had come back to the living, and Kara had tried to convince herself that she was allowed to feel weak.

(It didn’t change the way she was terrified of it.)

She didn’t know what she expected, but she was still surprised by the gentle kindness in Sam and James’ eyes, even if the man still looked shaken. There was no judgement to be found— not even pity, which Kara had been bracing for. Concern, yes, for her benefit, not for theirs. Sam was still stroking her back, and she couldn’t help but lean into James’ always strong presence.

They locked eyes, and Kara couldn’t hide from James. He’d known about Supergirl before she was even fully realized, and out of all of her friends, James understood the strain of a double life, of just wanting to do the right thing. He’d seen it with Clark, and with her, and in some ways, Kara supposed that Guardian was his own version of that need.

“I have to go,” she said with as much force behind it as she could muster, as if that could mask the way her voice cracked. “James. I need to go.”

It didn’t take long for him to catch on, and when he did, James cleared his throat, standing up along with Kara and turning to Sam, ready to talk his way out of this for the both of them.

Sam was having none of it, however, and she kept her hand tightly encircled around Kara’s wrists. Had she not known better, Kara would have thought that maybe there was some Kryptonian DNA left in Sam by how strong her grip was. Then again, maybe it was just the natural strength of a worried friend.

“Kara, you need to get checked out by someone. You can’t just leave,” she hissed, up in a flash and resisting as the other two tried to move forwards. “James, what the hell is going on? You can’t let her do this.” When neither of them offered a response, Sam’s eyes grew steely. “I want an answer. Right now, or else I’m going to call out through that open door and none of us will be able to stop Lena from coming out here. Is that what you want, Kara?”

That was the last thing Kara wanted.

The funny thing was, when Kara finally looked at Sam, she was exhausted by it all. The lying. The secrets. The excuses, and the disappearing when people needed her. She had lied to Sam for an entire year about who she was, even as she risked her life to defeat Reign and save Sam and her daughter. Sam had nearly died. _She_ had almost died, and yet at the end of it all, she was still just Kara Danvers— bumbling, clueless, and nothing more important. 

Sam could’ve been the one person who understood what it was like to have two sides of herself that seemed to be on opposing sides sometimes. Even more than Clark. Sam would understand the shame, and the lying, and the constant pressure to hide yourself away.

Maybe, she would understand why Kara had never told Lena.

James stayed quiet, keeping a hand on her shoulder but making it clear that it was Kara’s move. She loved him for it, because whatever she did, loyal, steadfast James would follow. They trusted each other to do the right thing, and for a moment Kara was reminded why she had fallen so head over heels for him when they’d first met. 

The noise came in over the television once more, and Kara heard the death toll being read. Her decision was made. 

“Sam,” she said, blaming the tears in her eyes and the way her hands shook on the aftereffects of her panic attack. “I have to go. I am so, so sorry.”

“That’s not an answer, Kara,” Sam started. “You’re acting like you…”

Her voice came to an abrupt halt when she glanced down. Her hands, still intertwined with Kara’s, had been moved suddenly, coming to rest at Kara’s collarbone— right where the dark blue of her super suit was peeking out. 

Kara was wearing an old college sweatshirt and paint-speckled jeans, so the classic shirt rip was off the table— though Sam didn’t seem like someone who needed the extra dramatics. Instead, Kara stayed still, reaching up. She took off her glasses and wiped away her tears with the back of her sleeve, and just like that, Sam was standing in front of Supergirl.

She didn’t feel so mighty and invincible now, slumped against James with puffy eyes and drowning in oversized rain boots. Kara could remember seeing Superman in the papers as a little girl, captured in the black and white margins of the Daily Planet. Even frozen by the flash of a camera bulb, Kal-El looked larger than life, so tall and proud and _Kryptonian_ , their family crest in focus above all else. It was a jarring contrast to the stumbling, mild-mannered reporter who would visit with Lois Lane and act like he couldn’t even begin to imagine what it was like to catch a bullet. It was the greatest disguise ever created, even if it was just a pair of glasses, because Kara understood why so many people ignored Clark Kent when _Superman_ was flying overhead. 

This felt different, Kara thought. It was much stranger when the lines were blurred.

Sam didn’t say a word. She didn’t have to; Kara had told enough people her secret that she could tell that Sam knew. What was really odd was, by the way the other woman was looking at her, Kara wondered if perhaps Sam had already known.

Sam wasn’t shocked. She wasn’t excited, or awe-struck, or even angry. She wasn’t any of the reactions that Kara was so used to experiencing when revealing her identity. All Kara could see was smooth, endless calm in Sam’s eyes, and maybe a hint of exasperation— though Kara couldn’t blame her for that.

“Kara. God, of course…” Sam said, and there was the awe Kara had expected, hidden in the pitch of her voice.

Kara pressed her lips together in a regretful sort of grimace. “People are in trouble, Sam.” The news report flashed in front of her eyes again. She put her glasses back on but kept the steel in her voice— another bizarre collision of her two identities. Sam didn’t know what to make of it, and honestly, Kara didn’t either. “They need my help. I’m sorry.”

(They all knew that Kara wasn’t apologizing to Sam.)

The other woman was still silent, studying Kara with the careful precision of someone who was filling in gaps they hadn’t known existed— viewing the past year in a new light. Kara was reminded then of the fact that Sam was one of Lena’s oldest, closest, best friends. Above all, her loyalties would be with the woman in the room down the hall. Maybe, Sam wasn’t just processing this from her perspective, but on Lena’s behalf as well.

Sam knew about the blowup between Lena and Supergirl. She knew what Lena had done, and had heard what Supergirl had said. Sam could remember the moments where Lena confided in her, explaining the nature of her fractured partnership with Supergirl. Sam knew that Kara had been right next to her, listening, playing along, acting the part of the supportive friend. Would Sam find it as despicable as Kara did? It would be so easy to hate Kara now, knowing the full truth of how she’d been treating Lena.

Kara just prayed that Sam was also thinking about the other moments. When the two of them had stayed up all night, investigating Morgan Edge on behalf of Lena, fiercely protecting her even when she didn’t believe she deserved it. Her and Lena offering to make a joint venture out of babysitting Ruby, and Sam coming home to find the two of them asleep on the couch while Ruby was sipping tea, watching Netflix, and looking smug. Or the quiet nights in, when the three of them and Alex would toast each other and tell carefree stories that made even Kara feel drunk with the joy in it.

She hoped that Sam remembered that Kara loved Lena more than she’d ever meant to hurt her.

Before Sam could come to a conclusion, Kara broke away. She wasn’t lying when she said she needed to go— people out there were dying, and had asked for her, and if she let them down those would be more faces she couldn’t save. Whether or not everything was about to come crashing down in her personal life didn’t matter, not when this was happening.

“I can’t stay.” She sent one last glance over at Sam, whose lips were pressed into a firm line. “You know I won’t.”

Kara was enveloped into a sudden, tenacious hug from Sam, almost stumbling from the strength of it. When she broke away, it was Sam’s eyes that were teary.

“Thank you. Thank you,” she whispered. “You saved my life, and watched over Ruby, and held everything together when it fell apart. I owe you the world. I am _so_ sorry I hurt you.”

“Sam,” Kara said gently, squeezing her shoulders. “I forgive you. It wasn’t you. I know that. You deserved to be saved just like everyone else.”

The other woman laughed, and in that moment, Kara could see the guilt that had been there for so long dissipate from Sam’s shoulder blades. “Well then, Supergirl. I think you have somewhere you need to be. Go!”

Kara shared a wary glance with James, the both of their eyes flitting towards Lena’s room. Sam’s face lost some of its emotion at the reminder, and as her mouth smoothed back into something unreadable, Kara hesitated.

“Listen, Sam. I…”

“It’s not my secret to tell, Kara. I swear it’ll be safe with me. Go, okay?” Sam didn’t look as enamored by the idea of Kara’s identity as she did a moment ago, but she was still resolute— and seemingly deciding to help. Whatever verdict she’d made about Kara, it had been a merciful one. “I’ll take care of it. We’ve got her.”

“Okay,” Kara breathed, not daring to speak anymore for fear of breaking the fragile truce that had been reached. 

She turned and took a step or two away before her hearing picked up Sam taking in another breath. Kara spun, and met a much harder gaze, one that was as sad as much as it promised retribution. She knew it was for Lena’s sake. And maybe for hers as well. 

“Wait,” Sam called out, the sound of it echoing in the empty hallway. When Kara stopped, she crossed her arms and set her jaw, unconsciously preparing for a blow. But Sam just let out a sigh, and tilted her head like maybe she understood why Kara did what she did. “Just… take care of yourself out there, alright? She’ll still be waiting for you. No matter what. And don’t mess it up.”

Kara nodded once, giving a pale, unsure smile before bounding off. Sam’s warning came from a place of concern for the both of them. A truce, of sorts— after all, it wasn’t Sam’s secret to tell. Kara understood that Sam wouldn’t interfere, but now that she knew, she expected something more out of Kara.

Sam would be waiting for Kara to tell the truth, and ready to pick up the pieces. For Kara’s sake, she hoped the shards wouldn’t be too sharp.

… 

As she flew south with legs that still felt numb, Kara was subjected to Alex’s voice in her comms, soothing and yelling and worrying well past the equator. It seemed that while Sam was willing to cover for her in regards to Lena, she still called her sister. And that, somehow, was even worse.

She knew that panic attacks were exhausting. That they took everything out of a person, herself included, and that maybe Alex was right. Maybe it wasn’t the best idea for her to be flying down to a disaster zone right now when her vision was still swimming. If her sister had her way, Kara would be under the sun lamps for an hour or two and then Alex would take her home for some good, old-fashioned sister time. But Kara went anyway— like they both knew she would— because she wasn’t going to let anything get in the way of her being Supergirl.

Santiago was not the beautiful city she remembered it being, not in the wake of such devastation, and Kara got straight to work after speaking with the Chilean President. It was mindless work, really— exactly what she needed. Kara waded deep into the flooding streets and dove into the rubble and didn’t think about the sound of the vending machine pulsing in time with her panicked heartbeat. She lifted up entire buildings, put steel and concrete on her back until the weight became unnoticeable and the gentle pressure of Sam’s hand was wiped away. She put out fires and forgot about the burning look in James’ eyes when he saw her curled up and looking so weak— stopped to let children gawk at the symbol on her chest and ignored the expectation that came with it back home.

Kara flew everywhere, as fast as she could, listening for heartbeats and trying to escape any thoughts of Lena. But every hospital she visited, every drop of blood staining her hands, and every family she saw huddled around the injured, however, made those efforts impossible. She saw Lena in every face she saved and every cry she ran towards.

The bodies that she pulled out of this ghastly urban graveyard were different. Those grey faces and unseeing eyes were a separate kind of guilt, one that was no less light to carry.

Two and a half days later, Kara realized there was nothing more she could do. She had done so many runs over the worst areas that the outline of the fractured streets were tattooed into the back of her eyelids; the buildings that were salvageable had been reinforced and repaired by her hand— as well as she could manage. By the time the sun rose for the third time, she had cleared the last of the roads of abandoned cars and large debris, had carried trains and school buses over ruined bridges, and dove into the bay on multiple occasions to rescue sinking cargo ships and stalled tugboats. 

There were no more people to save— and no more dead to bring home. Kara wasn’t needed there any longer.

Besides, it was near impossible to ignore for any longer— Kara was exhausted, more than she’d been in a long time. Supergirl had done everything she was capable of to help, using all of her abilities with all of her might, and all at once. She hadn’t slept, hadn’t ate, had barely even had any water; Kara hadn’t even washed off the dirt and the grime and the blood that was stuck to her like a coat of paint. There was such a monstrous amount of plaster in her hair and mud on her suit that if it wasn’t for the fact that she could fly, Kara doubted anyone would know who she was.

Most remarkable of all, even though her crest she wore was dull and masked, her boots water-logged, and her cape clinging stiff to her back, people still came to her. Trusted her. Asked her to find their missing mother or brother, or to hold their hand as they slipped off to sleep. Tried to convince her to lay down on a spare cot in a hospital tent even as more people were being carried in. It warmed her heart, humanity’s kindness for a stranger— and a hero supposed to be invincible and unwavering at that. It gave her the strength to carry on with a hidden grimace and genuine, murmured gratitude.

Kara knew that this extended… _intense_ use of her powers couldn’t last forever. Her knuckles were bruised from forcing her way through the rubble towards those trapped below, and there were tender bruises up and down her arms and legs from acting as a shield from the sudden collapse of an apartment complex. Early into her last day in the city, she got a nasty cut on her forearm reaching through broken glass, trying to coax out a wounded dog. The last straw was when her knees buckled holding up a fallen section of wall and she nearly crushed an aid worker because of it. 

The young man may have laughed it off and Kara gave him a weak smile to try and quell the sudden rise of her guilty conscience, but the incident made her decision for her. Supergirl needed to leave before she started hurting the people she was supposed to be protecting. She bid the doctors and the workers and the injured goodbye and took to the skies, due north and headed home.

Needless to say, she barely made it back to National City before her powers blew out completely.

Alex had to fish her out of the dumpster that she’d rather unceremoniously made her landing in. On the bright side (if there was one), it had only been a block away from her favorite pizza place, and Kara convinced her sister to buy her a slice. She passed out in the back of the DEO van, the food uneaten.

The next few hours were fuzzy. Alex had hauled Kara to her own apartment, and dumped her into the shower without much preamble, suit and all. Kara sat back with her cheek pressed to the tiled wall and let her sister hose off most of the dirt and soot and blood with a stream of water that felt like needles against her newly vulnerable skin. At least the water was warm. It put her right back to sleep, right as Alex started to gently shampoo her hair.

They didn’t talk much, with Alex content to her work of scrubbing the suds from behind Kara’s ear and Kara content to doze off until her neck cramped. The small, annoying details that came with being human were catching up to her, but Kara was too exhausted to care, leaning into her sister’s touch and marveling at the dull sting that came when soap washed into her cuts.

(She tried to remember as much as she could when her powers blew out, the tiny nuances and sensations and emotions that only humans felt. Sometimes Kara wondered if it was these things that would forever separate her from her loved ones on this planet— sometimes she wondered if she could even be Earth’s hero if she didn’t belong to it.)

Alex coaxed her out of the shower and immediately wrapped her in towels, because she knew how cold Kara got when she blew out her powers, and Kara was nearly bowled over by the wave of sleepy affection for her sister. Although it didn’t happen often, when Kara lost her powers Alex was _always_ there, knowing exactly what Kara needed and doing it without second thought. 

She had promised to protect Kara— had made it her life’s work— and while Kara still wondered if that had hurt Alex more than it had helped her, she would forever be grateful for it. They were together no matter what, and that was all Kara had ever wanted.

A pair of her favorite sweats were thrown at her chest and Alex shut the door. Kara was awake enough to take the hint and began the frustrating process of peeling off her soaked supersuit, which, after her time in Chile and that shower, was stuck to her like a second skin. Eventually though, after some muttered swear words, grunting, and listening to Alex’s muffled laughter on the other side of the door, Kara got her last boot off and slipped into the old t-shirt and pajama pants with a relieved sigh. 

A cup of coffee was shoved into her hands the moment she emerged from the bathroom. It was filled with enough sugar, creamer, and chocolate syrup to be overwhelming for anyone but her— Alex must have cleaned out her pantry for it. Kara took the cup with a grumble and half-closed eyes, still thinking about her foul, horrifying appearance in the mirror. Normally Kara could get out of the shower and be ready for the day in milliseconds, but now she hadn’t even been able to move the brush through her tangled hair. 

“I look like a drowned rat,” she explained when Alex raised an eyebrow at her lack of energy. Her sister just rolled her eyes and gestured for Kara to take a drink. She did— and immediately burnt her mouth. “Gosh darn it!” She pouted, glaring at the steaming mug and Alex in turn, who wasn’t even _trying_ to hide her grin. “Why do I burn my tongue _every_ time my powers blow out?”

“Could be karma,” Alex offered, sipping her own coffee and not seeming all that sympathetic. “To remind you to listen to your sister every once in a while.”

“Alex,” Kara groaned. “I did hear you. I just… decided not to follow directions, per say.” She stretched, feeling the strange and unwelcome ache in her muscles, and winced a little more obviously than normal in hopes of earning some sympathy. She didn’t; her sister snapped a dish towel against her thigh instead, and Kara let out an undignified yelp. 

“Always wanted to do that.” Alex had a dreamy, wicked little smile on her face that Kara would do anything to wipe off, but she was reminded of her current reality. Without her powers, her sister could beat her with one hand tied behind her back— and seeing as Kara was rapidly tumbling towards taking a long nap, Alex could probably do it blindfolded, too.

“Seriously,” she whined, pouting even more when her next attempt at sipping her coffee yielded the same, scathing result. “What did you expect me to do?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe _not_ fly across the equator after collapsing in a hospital hallway? Maybe, bother to call me or even send a single text? Maybe, next time, you don’t just drop off the face of the earth and leave _James_ to tell me that you told Sam your secret identity?”

Kara made a face, knowing that her temper was about to make an appearance. She didn’t want to hear Alex lecture her, not after the week she’d had. “People needed me,” she reminded her sister. “I was able to save lives down there. I don’t regret going, and I won’t say I do just to make you feel better.”

Usually, Alex would fight back, would take a deep breath and jump into a full blown argument with a type of glee she only reserved for brawls and DEO interrogations. But Alex had been there for her the entire day, and she must’ve sensed that Kara needed comfort more than she needed conflict, and Alex did something incredibly confusing and out of pattern to Kara’s sleep deprived brain: she calmed down.

“I know. I know, Kara,” Alex said, releasing a deep breath. “I was just worried. You know how I get when you run off without me.” 

“Sorry for scaring you,” Kara said, feeling the fight leave her as well. She brought Alex into a one armed hug, careful not to spill her coffee on the both of them. 

Her sister jostled her shoulder when they broke apart, giving Kara a genuine, proud smile. “You did good out there, Kara. I was watching the news reports all day, and you really made a difference.”

“I hope so.”

“Well, I know so. Just… take me with you next time, okay? J’onn didn’t tell me before he left how many vacation days the DEO Director has stored. I would love a tropical climate right now— and someone needs to keep you out of trouble.”

Kara didn’t take the light jab sitting down, returning it with some teasing of her own. “Really? Because the last time was on that family vacation we took with Eliza and the first night there you snuck a few drinks from the bar, and you got drunk for the first time ever and you didn’t want Eliza knowing so I had to use my powers and fish you out of that poor old woman’s vegetable garden and you were covered in-”

“Don’t!” Alex cried out, her cheeks turning red as she slapped a hand over Kara’s mouth. “Do _not_ finish that sentence. I swore you to secrecy, remember?” Humbled enough for Kara’s liking, Alex glared at her as she continued to let out muffled giggles. The tables turned, of course— because Kara had never been all that lucky— when she tried to hop up on the counter and spill half her coffee grounds in the process, which Alex had left precariously on the edge. “Jesus, Kara, drink your coffee before you trip out your window.”

Finally taking a sip of coffee that was of a safe temperature, Kara smiled in surrender and squinted out the window, trying to figure out the time. The sun was behind heavy, dark clouds, and Kara was still stuck in a different time zone, so she glanced over at Alex for help, who had zipped up her jacket and was fiddling with her keys.

“What time is it anyways?”

Alex looked up from where she was swinging the key ring around and turned on her phone. Kara caught several notifications from Sam and James alike when the screen flashed to life, and she was hit by a sudden wave of apprehension. “It’s just past seven,” she answered; that explained where the sun had gone.

It didn’t, however, explain some other things. “At night? Why did you have me chug half a pot of coffee then?” Kara asked, smiling and raising her eyebrows. “I’m ready for a good night of sleep, not an all nighter.” Her eyebrows furrowed when Alex didn’t respond, now retreating and returning with a pair of Kara’s tennis shoes and a jacket. “Alex. We’re not going anywhere, right?”

“We are, actually,” her sister replied shortly. The shoes and jacket landed on the stove top next to where she was perched, and Alex raised an eyebrow. “So finish your coffee and let’s go.”

“Where are we going?” Kara was too tired to offer up much protest, but she still wanted to know why her sister was acting so shifty. “I won’t be any fun to run errands with right now. You’ll have to push me around in the shopping cart.”

“No getting groceries.” Her sister turned and walked towards the door, and Kara followed, balancing her shoes, jacket, and empty mug in her arms. Alex folded her arms and met her with a stare that spoke volumes. It told Kara that she might not like whatever was coming. “ _You_ are going over to see Lena, and _I’m_ going to make sure you don’t chicken out.”

Several lines of thought began running through Kara’s mind, the first and loudest being the alarm bells that began blaring in her ears. It wasn’t that she had forgotten about Lena— that couldn’t be further from the truth. No, it was that the thought of seeing Lena again, of facing her after Kara walked out and all but abandoned her without a word, made Kara want to fly right back to South America and never show her face again.

She didn’t know how much time had passed before she could ignore the ringing in her ears long enough to speak. “I don’t know- I mean- I feel like that isn’t very wise, right? We need to figure out a story for where I’ve been. She’s so smart so it’s got to be airtight, and that could take the rest of the night, and maybe we should consult with the DEO to figure out the details-”

“Kara-”

“And I mean- I’m sure Lena is trying to get some rest. Those hospital beds aren’t very comfortable you know, and I wouldn’t want to ruin her peace by barging in, not when I’m so clumsy and loud and haven’t said one word to her in days-”

“Kara.”

“Besides, she probably doesn’t even want to see me. She probably never wants to speak to me again and Rao, I feel like I might have ruined our friendship but what was I supposed to do? She doesn’t know why I keep disappearing! And this is all because she doesn’t know who I am-”

“Kara!” It was her turn to get snapped out of the spiral of conjecture and worry that her mind had sent her pitching down, and Alex had to shake her shoulders to do it. When Kara finally shut up, Alex let out a sigh, closing her eyes and rolling her shoulders before attempting at an encouraging smile. It was still threatening. 

Alex gave her a moment to catch her breath before fixing her with a stare that stuck her in place. She knew that it was her sister’s turn to talk now, and it didn’t seem like it would be the most pleasant of experiences. 

“Kara,” she said, starting as gently as she could. “I knew you would do this. You’re trying to talk yourself out of being with Lena because you’re scared-” Alex raised up a finger to stop Kara from interrupting- “and you feel guilty for what happened. But it’s not your fault. No matter what you’ve convinced yourself, it isn’t. I know that, and Lena certainly does too.”

“I walked out on her,” Kara practically whined, begging Alex to understand why she was acting so reluctantly. “I wasn’t there when she needed me. Not when she woke up, and not when she was asking for me. I stalled, and flew across the bay, and then I ran away.”

“You _were_ there when she woke up-”

“As Supergirl!” Kara threw her hands up and spun around, staring at a watermark on her kitchen table. It was better than engaging in a staring match with Alex. “And she _hates_ Supergirl. You should’ve seen the look on her face-”

“Maybe,” Alex cut in, done with Kara interrupting. “Maybe you do have some work to do. You both made mistakes, and it might be a long road back. But Kara, that doesn’t mean you aren’t allowed to be there for her as Kara Danvers. Whether she knows it or not, she’s both your best friend, and Supergirl’s. You would do anything for that woman, Kara, I know that. Everybody makes mistakes. I think you need to stop punishing yourself for not being there and think about all the times you were.”

Kara let out a sigh of her own, not sure how to explain to Alex that while she appreciated the logic and the sentiment behind her words, they weren’t doing anything about the way her stomach was curling into itself at the prospect of facing Lena. “She has people taking care of her,” she said, deciding to deflect. “She has Sam, and James— not to mention the entire staff of her hospital.”

“Lena went home, actually,” Alex said, studying her nails and pretending not to smirk at the way Kara’s entire body went rigid at the news. “Been there since yesterday night.”

“What?!” Kara screeched, and if Alex jumped at the noise, well. She could feel guilty about yelling later when she was sure that Lena wasn’t bleeding out in the comfort of her own apartment. “Who cleared her to do that? I was reading these articles online and they said that recovery from those surgeries would take at least a week in the hospital! Are those doctors completely insane?”

Alex shrugged, looking amused. “You know how Lena is. She survives getting shot at once a month. You really thought she’d stay in that hospital more than a few days? Besides, she owns the place. No one could tell her what to do unless they wanted a pay cut.” She smiled then, a predatory flash of teeth that made Kara feel like Alex had her right where she wanted her. “If you’re so worried, you could always go check on her. You’re like a living X-Ray machine.”

“What, so it’s voluntary now?” Kara asked, feeling snippy all of the sudden.

“Oh no. I’m dragging you there regardless,” her sister replied, twirling her keys as if to intimidate. “I would prefer you not to be freaking out on the car ride over though.”

“I can’t believe you let her do this,” Kara muttered, pacing away and stomping back when a new wave of indignation overwhelmed her. “I can’t believe _Sam_ let her do this. Oh Rao, Sam!” Kara buried her face in her hands when a reminder of that fiasco popped up in her head. “Did you talk to her? What’s she going to do?”

“Sam won’t tell anyone your secret, Kara. You know that. And, while I wish you hadn’t blurted out the fact that you’re Supergirl in the middle of a busy hospital, I’m glad you told her. She deserved to know more than most,” Alex admitted. “And as for what she told Lena-”

“What did she say?” Kara butted in. Somehow, the simple truth of what happened felt agonizing, even without the added caveat of her being Supergirl. She didn’t want Lena to know she’d had a panic attack. She knew how Lena would react, and she didn’t want that, not when she should be focusing on her own health, not Kara’s.

(She didn’t want Lena to wonder about what triggered the panic. Didn’t want to tell Alex why she was so reluctant to see Lena— the last time she had, the fear of it had knocked her breathless.)

“You’re sick, if Lena asks,” Alex said, raising an eyebrow at Kara’s breath of relief. For Kara’s sake, she decided not to comment. “Sam told her the hospital wouldn’t let you visit until you weren’t contagious. Between you and me, I think that’s why Lena left as early as she did.”

The thought that Lena had been trying to see her felt like it meant something that Kara couldn’t reckon with right now, especially with the way Alex was staring at her— unreadable, like she was waiting for something. Like there was more to her words than on the surface. Kara didn’t know why the insinuation behind that made her face heat up. She blamed it on the loss of her powers; her heart had been doing funny things ever since this conversation had started and she refused to explore any other possible reasons why. She could barely handle this conversation as it was.

“So she really wants to see me?” she asked, and Alex just smiled as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Of course she does, Kara. You’re her best friend.” That same unreadable expression appeared on Alex’s face, and Kara swallowed hard at its intensity. “You know how important you are to her, don’t you?”

Kara didn’t answer that. Somehow, she knew that the answer she gave wouldn’t be the one Alex was really searching for.

“Maybe I am scared,” she confessed at last, wrapping her arms around herself and going back to the table stain. The floor felt too cold against her curled toes, and the reminder of her vulnerability made her want to turn away again. But she didn’t; she met her sister’s eyes and stopped avoiding the real point of this talk. “I’ve been scared this whole time. I’ve been terrified, and worried, and angry, and waiting for all this to be over. For her to wake up and be Lena Luthor again, not that woman in the hospital bed.”

“I’ve seen her. I’ve talked to her,” Alex supplied. “She’s still your Lena.”

The way _your_ rolled off of Alex’s tongue was loaded, and Kara closed her eyes against the weight of it. “I know she is. I know she’s fine, and everything will go back to normal, but I can’t get my head out of where it’s been for the past week. I’ve tried, but I can’t snap out of it. And I can’t burden her with that. She shouldn’t have to worry about how I’m handling _her_ traumatic experience.”

“You still feel like it’s your fault.”

Kara gave an almost unnoticeable nod, clenching her jaw and trying not to cry. She was tired beyond reason, and once she started down that path it would be a while before she could pull herself out of it, even if her sister was there to hold her hand. “I should’ve been there, Alex,” she whispered. “And I should’ve been there after. What good am I to her if I’m never there when she needs me?”

“Kara, you can’t be everywhere at once. You can’t save everyone,” Alex started, rattling off consolement that Kara had heard so many times before. But because she was her sister, and she knew how much that line only made Kara feel worse, Alex added something else. “That doesn’t mean that those people won’t be saved. What matters is that Lena is alive. There’s a reason I called you first. There’s a reason why Lena wrote your name as her emergency contact. Kara Danvers is her best friend, not a superhero. Lena never wanted you to save her from that bullet. She wants you now, to hold her hand while she gets better.”

(Kara hadn’t known it was her name listed as Lena’s contact. The cold, scary morbidity of it was overwhelmed by the sweetness of the gesture, and Kara was reminded of the fact that Lena loved her. Lena loved her— she still loved her, and that was enough. As long as Kara had that, she could weather any storm.)

“It’s been so long since I saw her. It feels like it’s too late for me now. Like… I’ve missed my chance as Kara Danvers and as Supergirl.”

“Look, if you’re worried about Lena being mad, don’t be,” Alex said. “From what Sam told me, she’s none the wiser— thinks you’re at home going through a box of Kleenex. You haven’t done anything wrong.”

“But _I_ know what happened! I know what I did— what I’ve been doing since the day I met her.” Kara wished this conversation had taken place somewhere other than on her welcome mat, because right now she wanted to sit on her couch and hug a pillow. These were not fun things to think about, even if Alex was there with a counterargument to ease her fears. She shoved her hands deep in the pockets of her sweatpants instead, letting out a long breath through her nose. “I don’t know how much longer I can keep lying to her. It’s tearing me up inside.”

Alex didn’t say anything to reassure her that time, staying silent and letting Kara look anywhere but at her. At last, she spoke— no frills, just an honest question. “Kara, do you want to see her?”

“Of _course_ I do,” Kara said, the emotion bleeding out in her words, and Alex nodded like that settled it.

“She wants to see you too. So, for tonight at least, can you please just let yourself have this?”

Kara thought about arguing just for the sake of it, thought of ignoring Alex and letting her self spiral down through a very long trip of all that had gone wrong between her and Lena, thought about taking a plane back down to Chile and keep helping until maybe she’d be too numb to remember Lena’s blood on her hands. But she was so tired.

And she thought, for a brief moment, of an elevator ride a few months before, when Lena had been safe and healthy and had a bag full of ice cream in her hands. She thought of the hug they shared, and the way they had gravitated towards each other in the ride up. 

Then she remembered what Lena did next. 

“It’s that old adage: never meet your idols,” Lena had said. “Supergirl crossed a line,” she said. “I can never trust her again.”

She looked over at her and Kara could see the anger and the defiance and underneath it all, the hurt shining through. It was a look that should’ve burned her from the inside out, but this was Kara Danvers that Lena was with; any hatred that was there was dampened, overcome by the softness and the affection in her eyes.

It was a look that had meant devotion; complete, absolute trust. Lena had found someone who she knew would never hurt her, and she had given into Kara’s pull completely. It couldn’t last— it wouldn’t last, but Lena hadn’t known that.

(Kara felt her heart crack just a little at the chasm between them that Lena didn’t even know about.)

But still, even as she had stared straight ahead at the floors steadily blinking their way past, even as she had bit her cheek hard and had to dig her nails into her palms just so she wouldn’t break down right there and tell Lena everything in the cramped, dim elevator, melted ice cream between the two of them, Kara had felt at peace. Sated, by her best friend’s presence, whose unconditional, absolute love had become all-consuming.

Even when she had been confronted by the full force of her lies, Kara hadn’t been able to walk away. Because she needed Lena as much as she needed her, and she couldn’t let that go. Kara was strong; she could do the impossible things that others could not; she could carry her grief strapped across her back and use the pain from it as a shield; she could sacrifice her own personal happiness for the sake of the world.

But she could never forsake any of that when it came to Lena. Not when it was her happiness too that Kara was tearing down. 

Besides, Kara was tired. She couldn’t deny herself the balm that would be seeing Lena any longer. Sometimes, somehow, for some people, even Supergirl was weak.

“Okay,” she told her sister, because she couldn’t hold out any longer. “Let’s go.”

…

When James opened the door to Lena’s place, he had his jacket on. Kara fixated on that fact as she shuffled in instead of the way that her heart had been pounding all the way down the hallway.

Alex hadn’t even come into the lobby, dropping Kara off on the curb with a kiss on the forehead and an unspoken plea to take it easy. “Remember that she’s your best friend,” she had reminded her, giving Kara a duffel bag with some spare clothes and toiletries. “You love each other. That part was never a lie.” She drove off, leaving Kara to stare at the steam rising from a cracked open manhole and eventually, go inside.

She could’ve run again, without her sister there to frogmarch her up to the peephole. Darted out the open window she saw on the sixth floor and shimmied down the fire escape, or gone all the way up to the roof and sat up there until the morning. Kara didn’t though— even if a small part of her wanted to. 

Now she was in Lena’s apartment, standing in front of James Olsen, and she knew there was no more running to be done. Though, from the look in the man’s eyes, maybe James was getting ready to do some hiding of his own.

“Kara,” he said, pulling her into an immediate hug. It was one of the things Kara had always loved about James; he never hesitated to show someone that he cared. His support had always been unwavering, and not just because Clark had asked him to look after his cousin, but because James believed in her own merit. “I’m glad you’re okay. I’ve been texting Alex all day and she said you’ve been pretty out of it.”

Kara recalled the onslaught of texts she had glimpsed on Alex’s phone. It seemed like her sister had given her a bit of a buffer to explain any odd behavior, one that Kara was thankful for. She was at her ropes end, and frankly, she didn’t know how tonight would go. While James— and now Sam— wouldn’t believe the same excuses she could give Lena, that didn’t mean that she hadn’t blown out her powers. That was as good of an excuse as any.

She flashed James a hint of a guilty smile anyway, because she didn’t like blaming Supergirl on the behavior of Kara Danvers. “Yeah, I got a little carried away,” she admitted coyly, glancing around the empty living room and wondering if Lena was listening in.

“I know the feeling,” James said, sympathetic, and Kara’s smile grew tighter. She asked herself if James really thought that the scrapes and bruises he got as Guardian could ever compare. It was a mean thought, buried under years of memories, only surfacing because she was weary and stressed and had been fighting off tears for the past week or so, so Kara swallowed it down and admonished herself. 

James was a good man; a noble, passionate man who like Kara, had a hard time sitting by and doing nothing. He had helped people as Guardian, had likely saved lives and protected the people that Kara hadn’t been able to, and above all, he was just trying to be understanding. At his core, that was what James had always tried to do, especially when two of his best friends were Supergirl and Superman. He had always been a good listener, sticking around even when Kara was angry at him, and he didn’t deserve Kara dredging up bad memories. While she still had her problems with Guardian, and still hated that James was operating outside of her offers of protection, she respected him. And besides, he was here watching over Lena now when Kara wasn’t, so maybe Kara should have been directing her criticism inwards.

“Kara?”

With a start, Kara realized that James had continued to talk while she had been lost in her own mind, and with the way his forehead was furrowed, he had asked her a question that she wasn’t answering. “Sorry,” she said, shaking her head and sending him another smile. “I’ve had a really long day.”

James chuckled, probably just relieved that Kara wasn’t having another panic attack. She remembered his look of disbelief in that hallway, him telling Sam that Kara— that _Supergirl_ — didn’t get panic attacks. In that moment, he was still the starry eyed boy with the camera who had trailed after Kal-El for years; he had seen the Girl of Steel and couldn’t reconcile that image with the girl putting her head between her knees. Now, he seemed more sensitive to it— Alex or Sam must have talked to him while she was gone. Maybe that was why he was treating her with such gentle empathy.

“That earthquake was a bad one. I saw you on the news with those kids. Seems like you really helped out down in Chile.”

Kara froze, the presence of Lena somewhere in the apartment hanging like an unseen specter over their heads. Lena could be lingering in the kitchen, or napping lightly on the couch, or hesitating just around the corner and Kara wouldn’t know it without her powers. Of all the ways for Lena to find out, this would be one of the worst.

(At least, that’s what Kara believed before it actually happened. Before Lex. Now, she wished that Lena had found out while she was making herself tea, or putting on her pair of slippers, because at least Kara would have been there.)

James saw the way Kara’s eyes widened and scanned the surrounding area, and he put his hands on her shoulders to stop her fidgeting, looking apologetic. “She’s asleep,” he said, assuaging her fears, and when she was still left doubtful, he chuckled again. “Knocked out on pain meds, trust me. And besides, this whole place is soundproofed, not to mention massive. She can’t hear us.”

“Sorry,” Kara said, breathing out a huge sigh of relief and unlacing her tennis shoes. Her back ached, and she groaned when she finally set down her bags and collapsed on the couch. “It’s easy to get paranoid.”

She had told James once about why she was so afraid to tell Lena the truth a few months ago, when they had been right at the height of the fallout with Lena’s secrets about Sam and Reign and Kryptonite. James had told Lena he was Guardian; he made it seem so easy, so uncomplicated, like telling the truth was the only option. Him and Lena had come out of it even stronger. Kara wondered if she’d passed a point where that could ever happen between her and her best friend. Even if James had urged her to put an end to the secrets and the deception, he still understood why she did it. It was for Lena’s protection, she had told him, as insistent on convincing him as she was convincing herself. Honestly, Kara didn’t know how much longer that justification could last, not when Lena was throwing herself headlong into danger anyway.

Once again, James showed his kindness by not saying much at all. “I get it. Don’t worry about any of that right now.”

Kara smiled gratefully over at him, needing to crane her neck to do so. James had followed her only halfway, keeping his shoes on and jacket, and now that Kara had made herself comfortable, she couldn’t ignore it any longer. “What’s wrong?” she asked him, nodding at the way he was inching towards the door. She thought of the woman out cold in the other room; she should have asked if Lena needed anything before she came over. “Is she okay?”

“Yeah! Yeah, she’s been doing great. A lot tougher than she looks, though I’m sure you know that.” James cleared his throat, and jammed his thumb over his shoulder towards the door. “I was thinking of going home actually, now that I’ve found another babysitter.”

“What? Why would you do that?”

“Ah, you know how it is. I need to get some proper rest, get out of these clothes.”

Kara’s brow furrowed; her and James both knew that Lena had two spare bedrooms— and it was certain that even her couch would be more comfortable than whatever bare mattress James had at his place. He had been acting skittish ever since she got here, and while Kara had at first assumed it was about their interaction in the hallway or her powers getting blown out, she wondered now if it was something else. If she was making James feel uncomfortable.

She had always felt weird about Lena and James’ relationship. It wasn’t that she was mad about it— Kara was happy for the both of them, and she meant it. No, it was just that when it came to her, things never seemed quite right. Like she was some sort of conduit between them, a conductor of electricity that flowed oddly between the three of them. Kara was the reason they had gotten together in the first place, but sometimes she wondered if her continuous presence was also the reason for all of the tension. Maybe that was why Lena and James had never really clicked in her mind.

“James. You’re not leaving just because I showed up, are you?”

The man let out a gulp that was audible even to Kara’s human ears, and she could practically see the war being waged in his eyes. James was an honest, straightforward guy, but he always chose his words carefully. The fact that he was taking this long to give her an answer confirmed to Kara that she was the cause of whatever this was.

“I’m sorry,” she blurted out without thinking, feeling responsible for whatever was going on with her friend right now. She _knew_ Alex should’ve texted him or Sam first before hauling her over and peeling away. “I don’t want to be a burden. I know how rough this week had been for-”

“No, Kara,” he interrupted, looking up with kind but uncertain eyes. “You’re never a burden, okay? And don’t talk about how hard this week has been for all of us when I know it’s been the worst for you.”

Kara tilted her head, wondering how much Alex had been telling their friends. “Then why does it feel like you’re only leaving because I’m here now?” she asked, hoping she wasn’t overstepping but knowing that something was off with James. While now she wasn’t so sure that she was the source of it, something was still bothering him, and as his friend, she wanted to help.

James sighed, and Kara knew from the way he set his jaw and pressed his lips together that he wouldn’t lie to her. “It kind of is, actually. Just not in the way that you think.” 

Kara stayed quiet, and James joined her on the couch, his long legs spreading wide and trying to find room in the cramped space between where they were sitting and the coffee table. Lena had positioned the table so it would be the perfect footrest for her and Kara, but for James, it looked more like a bear trap. She made a note to try and move the table out just a bit later, for his sake.

“I’ve spent the last few days here with her, while you were down there. And Sam was here, and your sister checked in from time to time, and even J’onn swung by— all of these people, all worried about her, but it was like she didn’t care.” James made eye contact, and Kara swallowed harshly, as if in anticipation. “She was always asking about you.”

Kara averted her gaze for some reason, and wondered why the back of her neck felt warm. “I thought you told her I was just sick, not dying. Unless it’s the pain meds she was on.” She felt an uncomfortable sort of laugh bubble out from her throat, as she looked back up at James in confusion. “Why does that matter? I’m sure Lena was happy that you all were there for her.”

“It doesn’t matter- I mean, it does, but. But she always wanted to be with you, Kara. Always, and above all else; she wanted you. And I just didn’t know why we weren’t enough.”

She shook her head, realizing that it was time she told James the whole story. “Look. When I visited her as Supergirl, Lena… she thought that Kara Danvers had been hurt in the attack. For a moment, she thought I was dead.” She shuddered at the memory, of seeing the terrible realization dawn slowly on Lena’s face; the anger and the panic and the guilt in her eyes; the way she’d lunged clumsily for Supergirl’s throat, hating that she’d failed to protect them both. “Even when I calmed her down, she was freaked out. She still hasn’t seen me— seen Kara Danvers— since she was shot, and I should have gone to see her right away, to let her know I was alright, but… well. You know what happened after.”

There was a loaded silence between the two of them, and Kara crossed her arms, biting her lip and waiting with bated breath for whatever was coming next. James absorbed this new information with a neutral mask on his face. Kara didn’t know what she expected him to do with it— she didn’t know what she _wanted_ him to do. After all, what was this conversation even about? It was like James was insinuating that she- that Lena… 

Kara wasn’t sure she wanted James to lead them down any further than he had.

Maybe James hadn’t been pursuing a hidden agenda, or maybe he was too nice to keep going along his line of questioning, or maybe he was tired too, and didn’t want to poke at this big, unspoken thing he had been hinting at, because he didn’t tug them both any closer to the edge. Instead, he buried his head in her hands and stayed there.

“I don’t know how to handle any of this,” he admitted. “When I got the news, I didn’t rush to the hospital. I didn’t feel like I belonged there. And even now, when we were all together, I felt like I was doing something wrong.” He looked up from where he had his head cradled in his hands, and Kara could see the doubt, and the vulnerability. “It’s never felt like she wants what I can give.”

“That’s not true,” Kara started, scooting closer and putting a hand on his back, rubbing gently. “You’ve done nothing wrong. You know how Lena is sometimes.”

James didn’t seem convinced, and Kara was reminded again of how thoughtful of a man he was. He didn’t always do the right thing, but he always had the best of intentions. He was the kind of man who was unafraid to seek out advice about how to help other people, even about his own girlfriend. He was calculating and strategic about Lena in a gentle, considerate way, the complete opposite of how anyone in her family had ever treated her, and Kara knew that he was good for her. She knew then that James Olsen loved Lena.

Kara didn’t know why that realization felt like a slap across the face.

“You’re the one that knows her best, Kara. Better than anyone. And at the end of the day, it’s going to be you two against the world. You’re the person that Lena loves most, so I’ve got to ask: what can I do to become someone like that for her?”

It was a statement that held a lot of meaning— too much for Kara to unpack. She focused on being there for James above all else, and tried to give him an answer that would put him at ease. “She cares about you. She really does,” she said, her stomach clenching oddly around the syllables. “But she’s been burned so many times before— it takes some time for her to let someone in. Lena’s been opening up to me for years now and sometimes I still wonder if there are more walls for her to lower. All you can do is give her that time, and be patient. You’re a great guy, James, and Lena knows it. Just keep trying.”

It was good advice— and apparently exactly what James needed judging by the way his shoulders relaxed and he gave her a hopeful, reassured smile— so Kara didn’t know why she felt so wary giving it. Everything she said was the truth, and yet it felt like she had lied again; the real question was deciding if she was lying more to James or to herself.

“Okay,” James said, and he stood up with new strength in his eyes. Kara had helped him find whatever certainty he was looking for, and he seemed content with her answers. Kara was just glad the conversation had travelled over relatively clear waters, because when it came to Lena, Kara had an abundance of the murky, choppy waves whose storm was only growing in ferocity, and if James had explored that, she wasn’t sure there would be such a happy ending.

“Okay,” she whispered, smiling back at James. For a moment she could see the young man from Metropolis reflected in her bright gaze and it endeared her— the charming, loyal, uncomplicated vision of the man that Kara had fallen for all those years ago. Maybe that image of Jimmy Olsen was her own version of his idealization of her as Supergirl; the two of them cast each other in stainless steel and golden bronze, hiding the genuine, imperfect people underneath. Kara missed that old recollection of James as much as she adored the real one now. “So,” she said, the nostalgia making her words feel warm and syrupy. “You staying over or what? She has that huge flatscreen TV we can use…”

James laughed heartily, but shook his head no. It seemed self-assured now, however, when he squared his shoulders and zipped his coat further up— no longer a man feeling pushed away, but one willing to find his place. “I meant it when I said I needed to get out of this shirt.” He wrinkled his nose in theatrical disgust, and Kara smiled back. “Besides. I think you two deserve some time to yourselves.”

“Alright,” Kara agreed, standing up and walking him to the door. She adjusted her glasses and gazed up at him, only to find him grinning back. Kara realized then how thankful she was that James Olsen had decided to leave Metropolis, even if their stories hadn’t woven together in the ways that she’d expected. She hugged him tight, and whispered into his ear, “Get some rest.”

“You too, Supergirl,” James said, and meant it. He closed the door behind him, and with that, Kara was back by Lena’s side after what felt like forever.

She wandered back over to the couch and sat down. Everything was quiet now, especially without her super hearing. Kara listened to the sound of Lena’s refrigerator and the clothes being spun in the washing machine, and wondered what would happen next. Lena would wake up eventually, and Kara needed to be ready for it. She should unpack her stuff, and check in on her best friend, and take some time to figure out what exactly she was going to say to Lena when they did talk about what happened. She should probably get some food to speed up her own healing process, and wash her face, and call Alex, but… this couch was nice, and Kara hadn’t felt this comfortable in a long time. The hum of the appliances was soothing now, and Kara couldn’t stop herself from closing her eyes for just a moment. She ran through her list over and over again, but… 

Kara fell asleep before any of that could happen.

…

Someone was calling her name when Kara was awoken, pulled out of the nightmare she’d been having. She couldn’t remember the details, only the familiar glow of Krypton exploding, the heat dampened by the shields around her pod. There had been the consuming, trapped, claustrophobic, tiny space compared to the vast nothingness of the Phantom Zone, and Alex had shown up at one point, replacing her in the pod. Then it had been Winn, and James, and J’onn, and finally…

Lena.

Kara felt a jolt of adrenaline jerk her out of the dream completely, and she blinked hard in the darkness. Everything was still blurry, her vision slow and lagging the way it always was when she woke up from a bad dream, and she reached up to adjust her glasses, which had slipped down her nose.

“Kara,” the voice said again, and when Kara straightened up from the odd, slumped way she’d fallen asleep against the arm of the couch, she could see someone in her peripheral vision. Their silhouette was cast in stark outline from where they hovered in front of a bright lamp, but Kara couldn’t quite see their face.

Not that it mattered. Kara had been waiting to hear that voice; she wouldn’t forget what it sounded like now.

Another light was turned on as Kara scrambled into a sitting position. “Lena?” she called out, rubbing her eyes and smoothing out her shirt and craning her neck to try and find the other woman. “Where are you?”

A face appeared in her vision, and Kara took in a deep breath at the sight. It was Lena, kneeling down in front of where Kara sat. She thought of the last time they saw each other. Lena’s face had been cold, her jaw tense and sharp, her eyes dark; that wasn’t the woman with her now.

This was Kara Danvers’ Lena, dressed in oversized pajamas and with tangled hair. There were heavy bags under her eyes and white gauze was sticking out from the collar of her shirt, and Kara knew that Lena would never be caught dead looking like this with anyone else but her. Even in that hospital, when she had every right to look ruffled and out of sorts, Lena had kept her poise, hospital gown or not, while Supergirl had been the one to hide her nerves.

“Lena,” she breathed, and took a moment to drink her in.

It was one thing to hear that Lena was alright—that she was safe, that she was recovering—and another to confirm it with her own eyes. She trusted Sam and James and Alex of course, and as Supergirl she had been there when Lena woke up, but this felt like the first time she got to truly see it for herself, without wearing a disguise. Lena’s eyes were shining the way they always did, and the angles of her face were soft and relaxed, so different from the unresponsive person in the hospital bed that Kara felt tears pool in her eyes.

And because she could wait no longer, she stumbled off the couch and hugged her best friend. It wasn’t often that Kara embraced anyone without having to keep her powers in check; not since Streaky had she ever shown her love without physical restraint. Her arms looped tighter around Lena’s waist in response, and though she was careful not to hurt Lena’s shoulder, Kara closed her eyes and let herself have this for a moment.

It was markedly different from how she normally gave hugs, even with Lena, and the other woman noticed, stiffening in surprise at the sheer intensity of it. “Hey,” she said, huffing out a laugh and wrapping her arms around Kara’s neck. “It’s good to see you too.” When her teasing brought no response, Lena’s grip strengthened as well.

“I missed you,” Lena murmured, softer now. “It feels like it’s been forever.”

Kara knew that the comment was an innocent one, but it still cut. “I’m sorry,” she said at last. “I’m your best friend. I should’ve been with you— I should’ve-”

She trailed off, not knowing how to say what needed to be said. The miracle of Lena was that somehow, she knew anyway. She understood her. “It’s okay,” Lena said, beginning to run her fingers through Kara’s hair when she noticed her shoulders were shaking. “Honestly, it isn’t your fault. They told me you were sick-”

“I wasn’t.” Kara bit the side of her cheek hard and told the truth for once, swallowing the copper in her mouth down along with her nerves. Lena’s breath caught behind her ear but Kara forged ahead. If she wouldn’t keep going once she stopped. “I wasn’t sick.”

“But Sam… she told me. She said the hospital wouldn’t let you back in. Why would she say that?”

“She was just being a good friend. Sam was trying to cover for me, but you deserve to know.”

Lena pulled away at that, staring into Kara’s eyes. “Okay, so what is it? You know you can tell me anything.” She didn’t look upset or angry— just confused. Lost, but not necessarily scared about it. She still trusted Kara, still thought she had her best interests at heart. It made revealing even a small secret feel terrible.

“I did come back to see you. After Supergirl told me you were awake, I-” She was stepping through a minefield of her own design. Everything would come crashing down with even the slightest misstep, but Kara was used to it; this way of living was natural, now— but still heavy. “I rushed back, and talked to Sam and James outside your room, and…” 

Kara looked away. She had never liked being weak, and had liked showing it even less. Kara was always the strong one, always the one that others looked to, learned to carry on from. If Supergirl’s knees so much as buckled, or if she took a second too long getting up, people lost their faith in her. Once someone like her was shown to be vulnerable, people started to doubt if she could save the people she promised to. After that, it was easy for Kara to doubt it herself.

“I- I didn’t handle what happened to you well. The others probably hinted at it, but I freaked out— didn’t eat, didn’t sleep, didn’t go home until someone made me. And I don’t know… something about that waiting made me- I got overwhelmed, and I- I had another panic attack.”

“Oh, darling. I’m so sorry.” Lena’s hands moved to Kara’s forearms, thumbs rubbing gentle into the skin there. Kara swallowed down a lump in her throat and looked away.

Lena knew about her other panic attack, of course— Kara had never felt so vulnerable when it had happened, and oddly enough, it seemed like the perfect struggle to confide in Lena about. It was a human problem, and Kara went to the person who knew that side of her best. She told her everything, every hard, bitter truth— except for the part about flying out of Catco and breaking the elevator in her panic, an occurrence that she knew had bothered Lena immensely. As the person who paid the bills, Lena was understandably confused by the gaping hole in her rooftop.

“Please. How can you be sorry? I’m the one who left you when you were hurt.”

“Kara,” Lena said, concern clear on her face. “What are you talking about? It’s perfectly reasonable, what you did. You really didn’t think I’d hate you for it, did you?”

Always compassionate, Lena seemed more taken by the distress clear in Kara’s voice than by the reveal of the truth. A selfish, scared part of Kara wondered if this was how she would react when Kara told her about the worst of the lies— if Lena’s stubborn habit of putting Kara first would be more important than the years of betrayal.

(Lena had always loved Kara more than she’d ever loved herself.)

“I promised to protect you,” Kara said, the guilt that had been festering in her gut coming to the surface. She thought again of the security footage, of the phone call she’d gotten, of the blood on Alex’s hands. She thought again about how she wasn’t there for any of it. “I told you that I’d be by your side no matter what, and I let something so pointless get in the way of that.”

“A panic attack isn’t pointless, Kara. It’s part of what makes you human, and I think it’s very brave that you’re here despite that.” 

“I know. I know that. It’s just… I don’t like breaking promises.” Kara could remember the way Lena had looked in that hospital bed and closed her eyes tight against the image. “You could’ve died, and I wouldn’t have even been there. I should’ve been there; I shouldn’t have been late to our lunch. I could’ve protected you from him-”

“What more could you have done?” Lena asked gently, and Kara’s heart broke at the fact that her best friend refused to put the blame on her when Kara was the one who deserved it all. “He had a gun, Kara. You’re not bulletproof, and I- you would’ve been hurt.”

She was so tired that her head was spinning with it, and Kara couldn’t handle Lena’s kind, incorrect logic. Lena was still in the dark, and if she only knew the truth, she’d know that Kara should’ve been there to save her. Supergirl could save everyone else; she should’ve saved her best friend too.

“You’re right. I know,” she lied, going along with the version of the truth Lena had. “I know it isn’t rational, but…”

“Feelings aren’t rational. They don’t follow any reasoning or make any sense. Believe me, I’ve had to learn that myself.” Lena joined her on the couch, then, her arm hovering on the cushion just behind Kara’s shoulders; she was respecting her space, and Kara felt a surge of affection because of it. 

“It scared me. The thought of losing you. It still scares me.” Kara needed Lena to know that. She needed Lena to know that losing the people she cared about scared Kara more than anything else in the universe— needed Lena to know that it was the one thing Kara would give anything to prevent. “And I want you to know that- Lena, I won’t let it happen.”

“I won’t let it happen either. We’re sticking together, alright?” Lena said it with such heartbreaking conviction that Kara couldn’t prevent the tears from slipping down her face any longer. Lena, who Kara knew she didn’t deserve, wiped them away so carefully it was if they had never fallen in the first place. Rao, she was going to ruin everything she’d ever wanted, wasn’t she? “I hate seeing you like this. What can I do?”

Kara was still shaking. She was hot and cold at the same time, and maybe it was the fact that she was very much human right now and desperately needed some proper sleep, but Lena’s presence was enough to make her see stars. Fact and fiction were starting to become indistinguishable, and Kara was scrabbling to find something stable to grip on to. 

“Hold my hand?” Kara choked out, and when Lena made a quiet noise in the back of her throat and finally wrapped her arm around her best friend, Kara realized that maybe Lena had been waiting for her to say that. Lena had missed her too, after all.

Lena took Kara’s hand with her own and squeezed. “Of course, Kara. I’d love to.”

… 

Eventually, after Rao knew how long they spent hand in hand on the couch, Kara felt better— still tired, but a little more at peace. She was around Lena, after all; no matter how hectic her life was, no matter what supervillain was wreaking havoc this week, no matter what completely unrealistic deadline Snapper had set for one of her articles, Lena always left her feeling at ease. It was no different now, and just knowing that Lena was here and was breathing and didn’t hate her for the time being was enough.

She broke their comfortable silence at last, squeezing Lena’s hand. “Thank you,” she said, leaning sideways to press a quick kiss against her forehead. 

It was a gesture of appreciation, of affection, and normally, Lena responded to it with a soft look in her eye or a surprised, shy smile. So, when Lena stayed still, pale and drowsy and starting to lean heavily against Kara’s shoulder, Kara remembered what pain medication did to humans. 

“Sorry,” Lena said, more a mumble than anything else. “I’m just a little tired.”

“I can see that,” Kara chuckled, biting her lip at what was the understatement of the year; a swell of attachment to the other woman gave her new energy, and she shook the fatigue out of her own head. It was her turn to take care of Lena now, and after all of the missed chances, finally, Kara was going to be there for Lena when she needed her. “Let’s get you to bed.”

It was a testament to how exhausted she actually was that Lena Luthor, the person too proud and too stubborn to ever take a sick day or a nap, didn’t protest in the slightest when Kara eased her up off the couch. Her head just lolled forwards slightly, and a dopey smile was growing on her face, and Kara needed to get her to bed before Lena started acting loopy. 

Lena’s legs were already starting to shake, so Kara took charge, wrapping an arm around her waist and guiding her upright. “Alright, one foot after the other,” she said, starting the process of dragging Lena up across the living room. Kara didn’t have any of her superstrength, Lena was being uncooperative, and Kara really wished the other woman had bought a penthouse with less square footage. 

By the time they got to the kitchen and Kara had bumped her hip hard on the stainless steel refrigerator, she gave up on trying to take Lena’s arm. They were being slow and unfocused, and Kara needed this over before Lena fell asleep against the dishwasher. She bent down, feeling the strained muscles her back groan at the movement, and scooped Lena up into a bridal carry, grunting at the returned soreness to her body. She didn’t put her back down, however; even without her powers, Kara was strong. Besides— if she could help everyone else at the expense of her own body, then she could do the same for her best friend. Gaining her footing, she tucked Lena’s head more neatly against her chest and carried her the rest of the way. 

“You’re strong,” Lena commented later, once Kara had deposited her on the bed, still with that same goofy smile on her face. Kara waved away the compliment with a blush, turning away and keeping herself busy.

“That’s thanks to Alex. She used to pin me down and tickle me until I was strong enough to get away.” she said, pacing around the room doing everything she can to make Lena more comfortable— pulling down the blinds, turning on a fan, fluffing pillows and turning down the sheets for her best friend to slide into. Most of it was completely unnecessary, done mostly out of the lingering worry in her mind, but Lena indulged her, getting under the blankets and sitting against the pillows. Looking more cognizant now, she ran a comb through her long, silken hair and watched Kara continue to fuss. She was beautiful, even half-asleep, and Kara glanced away at the intensity of it.

“Alex Danvers? I don’t believe it,” Lena teased wryly, and something about it felt deeply confidential and private, like this was a moment that Kara should cherish. Even if tomorrow, or in a month, or in a year, all of this came crashing down, she would always have this. For just a moment, they had this. 

“Yeah,” she said, wondering if Lena heard the way her throat closed around the word. She reorganized the bottles of pain pills and reached for the empty glass of water on the bedside table and stood up. “Do you need anything else?”

“Oh,” Lena said, looking uncertain. Her eyes flit between the open door and Kara, trailing back up to her eyes. “No, I’m alright.”

“You sure?” Kara asked, reading the hesitation in the way Lena had inhaled sharply, as if she was about to say something else. “If there’s anything you need, consider it done.”

Lena shook her head again, but the next moment she changed her mind, swallowing and calling out. “You’ll stay, won’t you?” she asked, her voice laden with something heavy and full of doubt. 

“Yeah! Yes. Of course,” she replied, setting the glass back on the table and deciding to just deal with it in the morning. Something in the way Lena was staring at her made Kara think that Lena just wanted to be close to her right now, and if she was honest with herself, Kara wanted the same thing. She would’ve taken the couch, would’ve fallen asleep regardless, but being here with Lena would let her sleep soundly.

She moved towards the other side of the bed, keeping her eyes on Lena the entire time. The last thing she wanted was to misread the situation and make Lena uncomfortable. She sat down tentatively and turned back to look at her best friend, brow pinched. “Is this okay?” Kara asked.

“Yes,” Lena said, and although she seemed less doubtful, she was still nervous. Kara could tell by the way her own eyebrows were furrowed and how she was playing with the edge of the blanket wrapped around her. “That’s perfect, Kara. Thank you.”

They’d never actually shared a bed before, Kara realized as she took off her sweatshirt and socks and moved under the covers, her feet brushing Lena’s bare leg in the process. There had been plenty of sleepovers, of course, almost too many to keep track of at this point. They’d fallen asleep on the floor of Kara’s living room after staying up too late telling stories, or on the couch after a marathon of Star Wars movies. Sometimes, Lena would be too drunk and too cozy after game night to want to go home, and she would linger, Kara more than happy about it and always grabbing some pillows, the two of them camping out by the abandoned board games.

They’d fallen asleep together plenty of times before, Kara tried to reason, not sure why this felt different. Then, she glanced over and saw Lena still watching her carefully, their legs tangled together and drowsiness making both of their eyes blurry, and Kara understood. This felt different because it _was_ different— it was intimate, and personal, and it was full of intent. There was no talking late into the night, and no flimsy excuse for staying over; Kara was here because she was aching just to fall asleep next to Lena, and because they couldn’t stand being apart. 

The realization heightened everything after, as they curled towards each other in the dark, face to face and unwilling to turn away. Even in the dusk of the night, Kara could make out the fine details of Lena’s face, and felt bold enough to study them. She followed the sharp jawline up to where Lena’s hair curled over her ear, and then over to her nose, counting the freckles that were so tiny that she wondered if she was imagining them. She met Lena’s green eyes, still shining, and knew her best friend was doing the same; they were drinking the other in, committing this to memory. Then, her wandering eye caught on something, and Kara stopped short.

“What is it?” she asked, her voice quiet, finding herself unwilling to break whatever spell had been cast.

“What do you mean?” Lena replied, not any louder. Kara shifted slowly, reaching out for Lena’s face. The other woman let out a breath, her eyes closing as Kara’s fingers moved from her cheek up to her forehead, lingering at a little crease formed above Lena’s nose.

“You’ve got your own crinkle, right… there.” Kara stilled, her hand moving back to Lena’s cheekbone and staying there, her thumb brushing the skin there. 

“Ah. It seems you’re rubbing off on me.” The joke, if it was meant to be one, fell flat, and Lena sighed and shifted closer, knowing she’d been caught. Kara remembered clasping Lena’s hand in her own, remembered how Lena had been there for her, and leaned in too, ready to take whatever Lena would give her.

“Are you okay?” she asked, not wanting to push, but wanting Lena to know that she was listening. 

Beneath the blankets, Lena laced their fingers together once again and gave Kara a grim, tired smile that probably revealed more than anything she could ever say. “Yeah, I’m okay. We both are.” She grew even quieter. “I thought, for a second, that you’d been killed. That it would’ve been my fault. I never want to feel like that again.”

Kara thought of Supergirl’s confrontation with Lena in the hospital, how Lena, not seeing Kara there by her side, immediately spiraled into thinking the gunman had hurt her too. It wasn’t often that Lena allowed _Supergirl_ of all people to get an honest glimpse of her emotions, but when that fear had dawned across her face, there was no hiding it. Kara could see every single detail of how Lena reacted to her possible death— how she’d thrown herself at Supergirl, furious and scared and grief-stricken, and underneath it all, full of remorse. 

Lena was ready to take on the guilt that would’ve come with Kara Danver’s death, and Kara herself knew how terrible it was to do that. 

Right there, Kara made a vow to herself. Lena would never take the blame for anything that happened to them. Kara would make sure of that as Supergirl, and as Kara Danvers. she would take those feelings of shame and liability and regret— after all, she already bore the sins of her dead planet. Easing Lena’s pain would be a mercy for the both of them. 

“I know the feeling.” She made another promise, to Lena this time. “And you won’t, alright? I promise. I meant it when I said I wasn’t going anywhere.”

“I’m really glad you’re here, Kara,” Lena said, and if there were tears in her eyes, Kara chose not to comment, instead closing the remaining distance between them and bringing Lena into a hug. “You’re very dear to me.”

“I’m glad you’re okay,” she whispered into Lena’s hairline, dazed by the way Lena fit so perfectly in her arms. She didn’t know why her and her best friend had never done this before; this felt new, and exciting, and significant, though Kara didn’t know how. There was a sacredness to holding Lena so close like this. It was a world away from when they’d first met, and Kara marvelled at how far they’d come.

Lena fell asleep like that, entwined so carefully with Kara. As she listened to Lena’s breath even out against her chest, Kara was gripped by a great tidal wave of emotion, that she wasn’t sure what to make of. All she knew was that this type of overwhelming feeling came from her being with Lena, and it made her feel vulnerable.

She used to be so afraid of being vulnerable. She used to think that being vulnerable would be Supergirl’s fatal mistake, thought she couldn’t afford it when she’d taken on responsibility for another world. But here, now, holding her best friend and staring up at the ceiling, Kara couldn’t run from the gaping, Lena-shaped hole in her heart. Lena’s arms twitched, and she tightened her grip around Kara’s waist, and Kara couldn’t understand why something she was so terrified of made her feel so warm at the same time.

Kara thought of Kal, one of the strongest people she knew, and thought of the way he talked about Lois. Superman had another weakness besides Kryptonite, and that was Lois Lane, yet Clark talked about her as if she was the sun itself. 

She never thought she’d ever understand that part of Clark, but now… she wasn’t so sure.

If this was what it meant to be vulnerable, if it meant having Lena like this, then maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t so bad.

(Maybe, for Lena, it would even be worth it.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry again for the wait, but this one is long so I hope it makes up for it! the next chapter should be up shortly as I couldn't resist working ahead on it. it'll be a little short but lots sweeter, and after that... we get down to business.
> 
> thanks again for the kudos and comments. being stuck in the house like I'm sure most of you are, reading your comments puts a huge smile on my face. I truly hope that reading this can bring you some type of escape from the real world as well.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> surprised that I updated twice in 24 hours? so am I.
> 
> for anyone wondering, the song that I've been basing this story off of is called "People Will Saw We're In Love"... you know... like the title. It's from the revival version of Oklahoma! or at least that's the one I obsessively listen to while writing this. check it out if you're interested.
> 
> as always, I hope you enjoy this, especially since this is as sweet as it's gonna get for a while now. :)

_Don't dance all night with me,_

_Till the stars fade from above._

_They'll see, it's alright with me…_

_People will say we’re in love!_

Kara loved to dance.

It wasn’t that she was _amazing_ at it, per se. No, for all of the grace and rhythm she had gained over the years fighting and honing her abilities, she lost most of it dancing. Except for that weird day spent with Barry inside of a movie musical, the sharpness she usually carried with her movements disappeared the moment a song began to play, and Kara couldn’t care less. As long as she wasn’t breaking anyone’s toes, she was content with her own version of dancing, even if Nia was mortified the first time she saw it.

She’d always thought Lena was a wonderful dancer.

And maybe Lena wasn’t technically talented at it either. She was usually half a beat behind everyone else, and if Kara was being honest, most of her freestyle dance moves looked something out of a delightfully dated John Hughes movie, but Lena looked _happy_ when she danced. She was unburdened— light, and open in a way that only music and quiet nights in at Kara’s place had ever brought out in her. 

Because of that, Kara wanted to dance with Lena whenever she could, just to get a glimpse of that soft, carefree look in her eyes and the laughter in her smile when she tapped her foot. Kara would memorize that smile if she could, if only to relive the fondness it brought out in her heart. She wanted to hear those songs that they moved to and be reminded of the soaring, new, crazy way Lena made her feel.

(She had a playlist full of them that she’d listen to at night. It was only sometimes, on the occasions when Kara limped home and knew she had lost— that she’d failed. Kara would curl up in bed and turn on her speaker and listen to the faint swells of music roar in her over-sensitive ears and remember what she was fighting for.)

Lena, of course, had taken a long while and a good amount of coaxing to actually dance with Kara. Not that Kara had never seen Lena dance— she’d attended enough galas to know that Lena Luthor was trained to waltz and socialize with the precision and power of a finely-tuned machine. Her steps were all perfectly choreographed, and not even a toe ever fell out of line. Paired with a striking dress, dark, shining hair, and bold lipstick, Lena was a vision to behold on the dance floor— beautiful, for sure, but once Kara knew her, trapped too. It was visible proof of the mark that the Luthors had left on her; Lena’s dancing was simply a result of years worth of demands to be flawless, with harsh consequences if those expectations were not fulfilled.

Before they became friends, dancing was a burden for Lena— another tool that her family manipulated and dominated with. It was robotic and calculated and constricting, and Lena _hated_ it, hated how her skill at it would forever tie her back to Lillian, to Lex.

Kara aimed to change that.

She started small, putting on the radio while they were deciding on a movie or humming to herself when she was waiting for Lena to get her things together to go out to lunch. Lena’s driver Frank always asked Kara what kind of music she wanted for the car ride, with a mischievous smile, and Lena would roll her eyes and tease but let Kara play whatever she wanted. Sometimes it was Top 40 hits, or 90’s boy bands, or show tunes; Kara even played some of Alex’s rock music, paying close attention to what songs Lena smiled at.

They dissolved into giggles debating NSYNC’s best songs, with Lena revealing an impressive knowledge of their discography, and that was Kara’s first clue that Lena Luthor was not the detached, dispassionate person she said she was when it came to music.

Eventually, they started singing along on those car rides— Kara mostly, but little by little, Lena too. She would mouth the words or mumble the tune to herself, all while Kara was re-enacting the music video right next to her. As the months and the years went by, Lena joined in, and those afternoons stuck in National City traffic singing along to Disney became some of Kara’s happiest moments. Kara had even caught Lena’s Driver, Frank jamming along to a certain Lady Gaga song that she put on replay with glee.

The strength of their friendship and the way they danced were correlated, Kara had decided. That first year— where they were both cautious and reaching and trying not to break what they were building— saw them dancing around each other, both figuratively and literally. Lena would tap her foot or nod her head, but she was always guarded about it, always glancing away when Kara smiled at her. At those first few galas Lena still slipped away, fulfilling her duty and locking herself into that same misery each time.

But then something changed. Everything changed.

Kara felt Lena ease into where she was always meant to wind up when they were waiting in line. It was just a regular, nameless Friday morning; they had wandered off to find a new cafe before their workdays began, and Kara had started dancing terribly to an old, faint song playing on the radio. It wasn’t much, just the tapping of her foot, the bouncing of her shoulders, and a ridiculous grin on her face. But Lena laughed anyway, Kara following behind gladly, and before she knew it they were both cracking up. Something broke apart in Kara then, standing in pastry crumbs and smelling the fresh coffee so strongly that her whole world seemed bathed in it. Something cracked open, and Lena slid into her heart forever, all to the sweet music of a trumpet and piano. 

There was no resistance, and maybe it should have scared Kara, but it didn’t. Back then, Lena made her feel like she had nothing to lose.

Lena started dancing along after that. 

They would lip-sync in Kara’s kitchens in the mornings when their movie nights had spilled over into all-night sleepovers, when they talked and talked and eventually, woke up the next morning to find the other still there. Kara would mix some pancake batter or fry some bacon and Lena would lounge at the counter, perusing through her best friend’s Spotify and trying to convince her to cook something that wasn’t made entirely of sugar or grease. Her hair would be down, and her eyes soft and lovely in the morning sun, and she would sway absent-mindedly to whatever song she put on— until Kara accidentally launched a glob of batter over her shoulder and directly onto Lena’s cheek. They both froze; Kara’s mouth gaped open as she watched it drip onto Lena’s work blouse. But Lena just laughed, flung a sliced strawberry right between Kara’s eyes, and they had a food fight to the tunes of Billy Joel.

Kara started putting kale in the fridge for Lena after that, and she saved The Longest Time to her favorite playlist. 

Everything came together as Lena made herself at home in Kara’s heart, and she was so happy she could sing about it. She told Kara the name of her childhood stuffed bear and begrudgingly went to karaoke night for the first time, not singing but clapping the loudest when Kara took a bow. The next time she went, after Kara had told her about visiting the ocean for the first time after getting adopted by the Danvers, Lena invited her onstage. Shocked, Kara bounded up the stairs, and they sang a duet of Beyond the Sea. She had the most beautiful voice, never loud and never quite on key but perfect nonetheless. Lena told Kara about her first crush and Kara fell asleep listening to the Beatles sing I Want to Hold Your Hand, wondering why the song brought such a rush of giddy energy— and the image of Lena smiling— to her.

Lena told her what it was like when she realized that Lex was past the point of saving, and Kara told her about how she wondered if her parents were proud of her. After, when they saw each other with a new understanding in their eyes, they slowly danced to Billie Holiday in Lena’s living room, dark except for the nighttime lights of the city below. Kara had never really danced well with a partner; she had broken a boy’s toe in high school when he asked her to dance at Prom. But with Lena it felt natural; there were no steps, and no one was watching. They just held each other and rocked back and forth and Kara was so glad she had finally found someone like Lena. They comforted each other long into the night, as the music switched over to Fred Astaire and Ella Fitzgerald, and Kara had never had a friend like this before.

She’d never had _anyone_ like this before.

(This was what friends were for, right?)

The last step for Kara was learning how to waltz.

She had changed Lena’s perception of everything else except that stupid, stuffy dance that put Lena into a prison at all of her galas, and she wanted to alter that too. The only problem? Learning how to do it, especially when it had to be impressive enough for one Lena Luthor.

“How the hell would I know?” her sister replied when Kara asked if she knew how. “I’m not eighty years old, Kara— I may be older than you, but not that much.”

“No top-secret, undercover skills?” Kara asked weakly, but her sister just rolled her eyes and shook her head. Kara changed the conversation before Alex could ask why, exactly, Kara was trying to learn a dance they’d both formerly considered stuck-up.

She didn’t want Alex to get that look in her eye again, the one that glittered whenever Kara had brought up Lena recently. 

Her other friends weren’t much help either. James just shrugged and got back to the football game when Kara had nudged him about it at Thanksgiving, and Kara didn’t even bother asking Brainy, who was trying to discreetly take notes on the rules, teams, and players on the television screen. Nia laughed in her face, and Eliza just smiled in apology.

“I’m sorry, dear. Your father and I were never that sophisticated,” she said.

“I go out clubbing, not to Swan Lake,” Nia piped in, still chortling at the image of her or Kara doing such a refined dance. “If you’re going to learn, though, just promise me that you’ll have a cleanup crew on standby when your foot goes through the floor.”

Kara just scoffed and walked away; Nia didn’t know how likely it was that her joke would become a reality. 

Desperate times called for desperate measures— which meant calling Lois Lane. It wasn’t that Kara was _afraid_ of Lois, but there were certainly other people that Kara would rather bother in the middle of a workweek. Not even the President had as much on her plate as Lois Lane did at any given time, and the thought of asking her to teach her to dance was starting to seem silly.

Kara had always looked up to Lois Lane, even before she became part of the family. She could remember walking into the Daily Planet for the first time with the Danvers and being enamored instantly with the brazen, unapologetic woman who sat across from her cousin, who swung between asking a passing woman to spell check her manuscript and grilling Clark as to why he was friends with a little girl. Clark had mentioned Lois to Kara only in passing, but Lois’s reputation for sniffing out the most shocking, revelatory stories— and for getting herself in and out of sticky situations before Superman even had time to put on his cape— was well known to most of Metropolis and to Kara, who spent mornings in the summertime flipping through the Daily Planet.

Lois was a hero to Kara— had traveled the world, had seen and done and tried more things than she and Kal-El combined. If anyone knew even the most basic steps to a waltz, it would be Lois.

It was just Kara’s luck, then, that she didn’t.

“Not a clue, kiddo,” Lois said, voice relaxed and strong even over the rapid clacking of a keyboard and the sounds of the Daily Planet around her. Her piece of gum snapped in her mouth, and Kara could picture the scene as if she were there; Lois would be hunched over a messy, cramped desk, a pencil behind her ear and ink stains on the pads of her fingers. She waved to Perry White with a twirl of her fingers while she balanced the phone on her shoulder, and tapped her foot against the tiled floor, her heels somewhere under her chair, reviewing notes on the yellow pages of the legal pad she brought everywhere.

(She had even brought it to Christmas, once, when Kara was still in high school. Lois had somehow found out about Kara’s fascination with her and her stories, and being kind, had led Kara through a mock interview while the others were washing dishes or pouring out a nightcap. By then Lois knew Clark’s secret identity; her curious, considerate questions about life on Krypton had been one of the few times Kara had ever talked about her past to anyone besides Alex or Clark.)

“Really?” Kara asked, hoping that Lois was holding out on her. She was taking a break in between missions as Supergirl, and had found a roof to eat a snack and swing her legs from. “You’ve been to so many of those galas and events— I assumed you had picked up a thing or two.”

“Well sure, I went to those parties, but I never actually _danced._ Usually I was sneaking off to the private tables to ask a quick question, or hiding from security.” Lois trailed off, maybe reminiscing on her old exploits. Kara thought about hanging up and leaving her to memory lane, but Lois hummed and spoke again. “There was only one person who ever followed the rules at those places, and that was your cousin. Here, let me grab him.”

“No need if he’s busy,” Kara protested weakly, but Lois was already on the move, likely making her way over to Clark’s desk by the way she was calling his name. There was so much noise on the other end— people were bustling this way and that, and phones were ringing and fax machines rattling. Someone stopped Lois to ask her about a source for the Mayor’s office, and it was so different from the open, breezy, quiet demeanor of the Catco office that Kara couldn’t believe they were in the same business. 

Maybe Cat Grant had hated how chaotic the Daily Planet was, which was why Catco acted as unruffled as its owner.

“I think he’s holed up in one of our storage rooms,” Lois commented; from the muffled sounds coming from the phone, she was working her way through the hustle and bustle to find her fiancé. “He’s trying to finish up a big article on Intergang before we go off on our… vacation.”

Clark and Lois were leaving for Argo in a month or so, and Kara was swept by that same bittersweet feeling she’d felt when Kal had first told her. Her cousin didn’t remember Krypton— didn’t speak the language, or remember the towering spires of the city, couldn’t picture the people and their clothing and Rao on the horizon. Kara was so happy that now, he would have a chance to make his own memories, even if it wasn’t the Krypton of their birth. Besides, Lois would have the best medical care possible for the baby, and Kal— Kal would get to meet Alura.

Kara was still trying to process the fact that her mother was alive— had been alive and well for years, out in the same expanse of stars that her daughter had traveled through. She had grieved for the woman, for the loss of her love and of her family, and the knowledge that she was still there when Kara believed her to be lost forever changed everything. She’d almost given everything up for her mom; she’d said goodbye to Alex, and her friends, and her role as Supergirl, and had left.

She hadn’t planned on returning, until Reign came back. After that, Kara wondered if all of that had been a test from Rao, to see if she would abandon her responsibilities on Earth to try and recapture her past. For quite a long time, Kara felt like she had betrayed someone— though she didn’t know who. Was it her mother, whose daughter returned to her only to go back and fight for a home that wasn’t even hers? Or Alex, who she had left without so much a word? Was it Lena, who didn’t even know the full weight that Kara wrestled with?

Or, was it herself, for deluding herself into thinking that she could somehow have it all?

In the end, Kara was glad she had come back. Earth was her home now; these were her friends and family. No matter how much she still ached with the loss of her world, Kara had found a new home and wouldn’t abandon it. Her mother must have understood, because she let Kara go— her daughter, her last hope, belonged to other people now.

It was enough for them to know that the other was alive. That was more than Kara had ever thought to pray for.

“There he is,” Lois said, jerking Kara back to the present. “Clark! Your cousin’s got a question for you.” There was a whoosh of air, a thud, and then silence. Lois must have thrown the phone to him. “Don’t get cranky on me, Kara, but I’ve gotta run. Someone needs to do some real journalism if Jeff’s planning on throwing softballs to the mayor. I hope your dancing thing goes well!”

Heels clicked across the linoleum, and a door swung shut; Lois Lane had left as quickly as she’d blown in, taking most of the storm with her. Clark chuckled in the newfound quiet. “Hey, Kara.”

“I can’t believe a human can talk that fast,” Kara muttered to herself, but Clark heard of course, and his laughter grew. “How can you handle that much energy 24 hours a day?”

“Lois calms down once you get her more than 100 yards away from a computer,” Clark joked. “How’s the day been?”

“Oh, you know,” Kara said, letting herself hover off of the roof and lay back, her cape floating down towards the cars below. “Same old, same old. I dealt with one of yours today.”

A file box slid back onto its shelf, and Clark replaced it with a new one. “Really? Who?”

“He called himself the Puzzler,” Kara said, scoffing. “Don’t know how s name like that relates to alien extortion, though.”

Kal snorted. “You know, I could never figure that one out either. Now, what’s this about dancing?”

“Ha!” A peal of uncomfortable laughter bubbled out before she could stop it, and Kara wanted to know why she was so nervous to tell her cousin about something so harmless. “Well, it’s a funny story actually, but I’ve been looking for someone to teach me a few moves and no one in National City wants to help! I just called to see if you had any hidden talents?”

A pen began scribbling away, but Kara knew that Clark was still paying attention. She could say many things about her cousin, mostly good, but the one thing that she knew to be true was that the man always listened to what she had to say. He was attentive even if he was absent, and although Kara was still trying to decide if she liked that about him growing up in Midvale, she appreciated it now. It was nice to know she always had him to talk to.

“Hmmm. And Lois was no help?”

“She said you were the one on the dance floor while she was taking down the bad guys.”

“Of course she did.” Even from across the country, Kara could picture her cousin grumbling as Lois bragged about — and took most of the credit for— their misadventures. “Well, I’ll be honest. I learned to square dance in Smallville and I’m not half bad at the Electric Slide, but otherwise, I’ve found I’m best keeping my feet flat on the floor.” 

“The Electric Slide? That’s the best you’ve got?” Kara let out a huff, trying to imagine _Superman_ doing any sort of line dance. “I was thinking something a little more formal, like a waltz.”

“What on earth do you need to learn to waltz for? Is James making you do some undercover assignment for Catco or something? Because if he is, then you can just remind him of that week he spent in Cleveland and that should get him off your back.”

“No, it’s not for Catco,” Kara explained, though she did have some follow up questions about what exactly happened to James in Ohio. She paused for a moment, feeling nervous, but pushed forward, telling Clark the truth. “It’s for Lena, actually. A surprise for her next gala.”

“Lena? As in Lena Luthor?”

Kara hesitated again. “Yeah. Her.”

The line grew silent, and Kara wished they were having this conversation face to face. Out of everyone that Kara counted among her family, Kal was the one who she had the hardest time reading, sometimes. It was strange, that the little baby she played with on Krypton grew into a mature, broad-shouldered, good man— even stranger that Kara hadn’t been able to see it. Clark was her blood; they shared a past and a legacy and a namesake, and yet Kara always found herself wondering what Kal really thought of her.

She wondered what he thought of Supergirl entangling herself with another Luthor.

Clark had never made his mind up about Lena Luthor. His dubiousness towards the other woman had started with their frosty first meeting all those years ago, and had never really subsided. Kara did her best to be understanding about it; she understood how deeply Lex Luthor had hurt Kal, in more ways than one. Of course there was lingering soreness there— for people like Superman and Lois Lane and even Jimmy Olsen, for a time, the name Luthor would always mean pain and destruction and _danger._ That was why, when Clark was around, Kara never really mentioned Lena, hoping to avoid the shuttered eyes and the long sighs and the careful warnings that he was sure to give her about dealing with that family.

“Oh… so you two are still… _close,_ then?” Clark asked when the silence dragged on too long, and Kara could practically picture the way her cousin was attempting to restrain himself. “I didn’t know that.”

“Yeah. She’s my best friend.” Kara tightened her grip on the phone when the truth came spilling from her lips, and she waited for what her cousin would say next. She knew full well that once upon a time, Lex had been Clark’s best friend too.

“I see.”

Kara couldn’t handle the weird, static tension any longer. “Look, Clark,” she started, setting her shoulders and preparing to defend Lena from the accusations Clark was sure to make against her. She had done it enough times that it felt second nature. “I know what you’re going to say.”

 _She’s still a Luthor,_ he would say, or _even Lex did good things for a while. Can you really trust someone like her? When she doesn’t even know who you really are. Remember what happened to me, Kara. I don’t want to see another Luthor tear down a city because of us._ Clark’s voice would grow sad, and slow, and soft, and Kara would be able to hear in his voice how he thought she was repeating his mistakes. _I believed in Lex too,_ he would say. _In the end, that won’t change anything._

“Kara,” he said after a beat, releasing a long breath through his nose. “I know what you’re thinking, but I promise I’m not… I don’t think… listen. You know my history with the Luthors.”

“She’s not like them,” Kara objected, her words fierce. “She isn’t. She is kind, and good, and you have _no_ idea how much she struggles to prove that. It’s hard when people like you assume she’s going down the same path as Lex. Frankly, you have no right saying anything about her when you’re still stuck in the past.”

“Kara, wait.” Clark’s voice is gentle, and Kara can picture him closing his notebook and holding up a hand to calm her down, even across the country. “What I was trying to say is that I don’t think Lena is Lex, and I don’t think that you’re just like me.”

“What do you mean?” Kara asked, genuinely caught off guard. The impassioned frenzy that she had worked herself into lacked motive, now; she moved her shoulders up and down, not realizing how tense they’d gotten.

“What went down between me and Lex is ancient history, at this point, and you’re right. Normally I’m quick to point my finger at that family because I’m still so hurt by what happened. I’m scared of what could happen.”

“So, why aren’t you worried about me?”

Clark laughed again, and even through the tinny interference of the speaker it sounded warm and sincere. “Because I trust in you, Kara. I believe in the friends you've made along the way. And,” he added, abashed, “Lois has been investigating Lena Luthor for years. If she hasn’t been able to bust her for _anything_ , then you’ve found yourself a saint for a best friend.”

“Lois had no right to snoop like that,” Kara protested, albeit weakly— that was exactly the kind of determined, persistent journalism she had always loved Lois for. The wind had left her sails at that point anyway, and to be honest, she was at a loss for words. This wasn’t how Clark was supposed to react, and Kara didn’t know what to do now. “You really aren’t worried?” she asked, as if she couldn’t quite believe it.

“Oh, no. I’m still worried,” Clark replied, but spoke again before Kara could take offense. “But that’s just because I’m your family, not because I think your best friend is a supervillain. She isn’t, right?”

“Of course not!” Kara said, cowing as soon as she realized it was a joke, and Clark laughed at her tone. 

“Good. And for what it’s worth, I meant what I said about you two being different.” Clark trailed off, lost in old memories. “Lex and I were doomed from the start, no matter how hard I tried to change it. We were always going to wind up against each other. But I was there when you first met Lena. I remember the look on your face. You love her, yeah? And she loves you?”

“Yeah. I really do. And she does too.”

“Then that’s what matters in the end. You understand each other, and love each other despite it. That’s the one thing Lex and I could never do.”

A moment of silence passed while Kara let the sureness of Clark’s words pass over her. It was comforting, but she still couldn’t stop a tendril of doubt from snaking its way in. “She still doesn’t know about me,” Kara said, knowing she didn’t need to elaborate. 

“I wouldn’t worry about that. When I told Jimmy, he wasn’t upset.”

“No, no. It’s different with Lena. She’s not like James, she’s… ” Kara was at a loss for words. How could she express to Clark what exactly Lena meant to her when she was still trying to wrap her own head around it? Lena was special, more so than anyone else in her life except for maybe Alex. “She means a lot to me.”

Clark didn’t respond, so Kara kept talking. “When you told Lois, what happened?”

“When I told… Lois?”

“Well, yeah,” she answered, unsure as to why she felt an impulse to defend herself. "You lied to her for years, day after day, even when she meant the world to you. That’s exactly what I’ve been doing to Lena.”

“Oh. I see. I… don’t want to mince words,” Kal said, and Kara was sure he was grimacing on the other end. While she had never gotten the full story, she knew that it wasn’t a pleasant one to tell. “It was really hard after it first happened. For a while, I thought I’d ruined what we had forever. But if Lena loves you— if she really does— things will get better. You’ll come out of it together.”

It was comforting, hearing reassurance from the one person who had been in this same situation. But it was gathering the courage to take that leap— to ruin everything without knowing if it would ever be fixed— that Kara still wondered about. “Everything is so perfect now. I don’t want to break her heart. How did you decide to tell her?”

“Kara, if there is one piece of advice I can give you, it’s that no one can live in a lie forever. I told Lois because I wanted it on my terms, and no one else’s. If you really care about Lena enough to tell her your identity, then you need to do it. Before you lose control of the truth.”

It was foreboding even if it was honest, and Kara digested Clark’s warning in silence. “Geez,” she said eventually, diffusing the tension with a laugh. “When Lois first handed the phone to you, I started preparing for an argument. This is better than anything I was expecting.”

“Even your baby cousin is capable of a surprise once in a while,” he teased, and just like that, Kara relaxed. No matter the circumstances of the past, she and Kal were still the only real family they had left, and talking to him always managed to bring a smile to her face. Just knowing that they were both alive, and happy, and had escaped the impossible odds was enough. “I just want you to be happy. And if that means learning how to waltz to impress Lena Luthor, then all the better. I’ll have to ask Alex to send me a video.”

“I’m not sure you’ll be getting any dancing out of me at this rate.” Kara watched the streets below. The air was turning crisp, and people were wearing heavier jackets as the days rolled by. Before she knew it, Lena’s Year-End Gala would be upon her, and she still wouldn’t be able to know a waltz from a foxtrot. 

“You haven’t asked J’onn yet, have you?” Clark asked, curious.

“No, I haven’t wanted to bother him,” she replied. “He’s been so busy lately with his PI jobs.” Her eyes narrowed. “Why…?”

“I seem to remember him knowing a step or two, back when we worked together,” Clark mused. “If I were you, I’d ask him.”

“J’onn? Dancing?” Kara scoffed, unable to picture the man ever doing more than tapping his foot. J’onn barely even participated in karaoke night, preferring to hang back with Alex and send out teasing jeers from his seat. Waltzing seemed entirely out of the realm of possibility. “There’s no way. And when were you two ever in a situation that required a ballroom?”

Clark just laughed, and Kara found herself grinning at the image as well. Imagining her cousin and J’onn— two of the more awkward men she’d ever met— together on a mission was funny enough. Adding in the lights of a disco ball or a full orchestra was even better. 

“That’s a story for another time,” he answered, playing coy. “And while we’re at it, please don’t mention Cleveland to Jimmy. I’d rather leave the planet knowing that my best friend isn’t after my head.”

“Deal— but I want to hear about it later.” Kara stayed quiet for a moment, enjoying the sounds of the office coming from Clark’s end. She was starting to understand the appeal in its chaos; While the Daily Planet was loud, and frantic, and brimming with action, it had a rhythm to it that was constant, and calming. She could see why Clark loved it so. “I’m going to miss you two, you know,” she whispered into the speaker.

She just knew that Clark was smiling, giving her one of his soft, sad smiles that she knew was mirrored on her face as well. Maybe it ran in the family— maybe she should have known that they would learn to love and laugh in the same way after everything they’d lost.

“I’ll miss you too, Kara,” he said. “Funny, how I always feel like you’re with me, even across the country, but this feels…” 

“Different,” Kara offered, knowing that what Clark was feeling was the same as what she was. “After all, Argo isn’t exactly a single leap away. But, it’ll be fine,” she added. “You and Lois will love it there.”

“I’m a little nervous,” Clark admitted, his voice quiet, and suddenly Kara could see the little boy she’d cradled in her arms a lifetime ago. She’d never gotten the chance to be there for Kal in the way she’d promised to— but these moments, however brief, were a chance for her to make up for it. “I hope… I want them to like me. I hope I’m what they imagined.”

“Kal,” Kara said, knowing what it was like, trying to live up to the expectations of an entire people. She knew what it was like, wondering how _she_ could ever be enough, fighting to be worthy of a legacy handed to them covered in ashes. “They’re going to love you. You’re the best of them. Trust me, I know.”

“Thanks, Kara.”

“Tell my mom I love her, would you?” 

If Kal heard the quake in her voice— which he almost certainly did— he didn’t fault her for it. He’d lost everything too; even if he was just a baby when it had happened, Clark longed for ghosts of his own. He missed his mom too. “Of course. I’ll tell her all about what you’re doing on Earth. She’ll be so proud of you.”

“I hope so,” Kara replied, and she smiled despite the sadness that had suddenly grabbed hold of the conversation; if there was one thing the both of them understood, it was hope.

“Me too.” A siren rang off in the distance, and Kara knew she had to be off. 

“Clark, I-”

“You’ve gotta go. I know,” Clark chuckled, shuffling papers and finishing up on his end as well. “Super hearing. Go get ‘em, Supergirl.”

“Goodbye, Kal,” Kara said. “Be safe out there, alright? And don’t let Lois ask the High Council too many questions. They’re easily worked up.”

“That’s like asking the sun not to shine,” he said, still laughing, and Kara sighed, taking in the moment and relishing it for what it was. It was times like this where she realized how glad she was to have Kal in her life, even if it wasn’t what she’d imagined.

“ _Khao-Shuh,_ Kal.” There was no good translation of the phrase for any language that Kara had found on Earth. The closest would be _to be continued—_ having the faith in one day meeting again. She wondered, after she said it, if Clark felt the full weight of the words, or if he even knew what they meant. 

“ _Khao-Shuh,_ ” her cousin replied easily, and though his words came out stilted, it still eased a part of Kara’s soul that wasn’t thought of often. Kal would always be with her, and while he couldn’t remember it, Krypton would always be a part of him. Kara was happy that he could finally get the chance to live in that world, even if it was just for a moment.

The line clicked on the other end, and Kara was left on the roof, surveying the National City skyline and parsing through the variety of emotions she was feeling after her conversation with Clark. Visions of her mother swam past— and Argo, and Lex Luthor, and Lois; finally, Lena took their place. _No one can live in a lie forever,_ he’d said, and something in the air made Kara start to believe it.

Her life was starting to change in big ways, and with it, her time was running out.

But, she could still give Lena one last carefree gift before telling the truth. 

…

J’onn did indeed know how to dance. The only problem was that Kara was a terrible student.

“Oops! That was my fault,” she apologized for what must have been the fiftieth time when she sent his desk skidding two feet away from where her hip had jostled it. J’onn had suggested his new office for the lesson, which Kara was sure he was regretting now. Her clumsy attempts to keep up with his nimble footwork had shaken plaster from the ceiling, and just a few minutes ago, her most overzealous lunge to get in rhythm ended with her foot going clear through a floorboard. Nia had been right with her prediction, but J’onn had just chuckled, his eyes shining with uncharacteristic patience.

“You’re getting there,” he told her, waiting for Kara to finish rearranging the scattered books on the desk. J’onn held out his hand once more, the music stopped, but she hesitated.

“I think your furniture thinks otherwise,” she muttered back, and once again, J’onn just laughed, like he was fine with a full demolition if it meant Kara learned to waltz. 

She had been surprised at how readily J’onn agreed to help her. Her other friends had been, at best, cautiously supportive of what they’d assumed was Kara picking up another weird hobby, and none of them had wanted anything to do with it. Clark was the only person she’d even told about wanting to do it for Lena, but it seemed like J’onn was on board immediately, without Kara even mentioning anything about her best friend. He’d just studied her for a moment, smiled, and began to clear an open space, asking Kara about styles and music selection.

J’onn couldn’t read her mind, but sometimes, it felt like he could. And if anyone knew about Kara’s motivations for learning to dance, judging by the knowing look in his eye, it was him.

“You need to relax,” he said, his hands getting hers back in the correct position, his feet tapping the parts of the floor where hers needed to be, and Kara doing her best to follow instructions. “In a dance like this, your partner always knows what you’re thinking. Your emotions bleed through into the dancing. Waltzing is one of the most vulnerable interactions in the world.”

Kara made a face. “That doesn’t make me feel better.”

“Better make sure you find the right partner, then,” J’onn said, that same twinkle in his eye. 

The music began again, and Kara mirrored J’onn. They swayed to the beat, then stepped, and leaned, and slid their feet. J’onn’s movements were deft and precise; he never missed a beat, and as they spun slowly around the room, it was all Kara could do just to hold unto his steady presence.

“Where did you learn to do this, anyway?” she asked after the worst of the steps had passed. J’onn, never breaking stride, pulled her back across the room in a glide.

“Back on Mars, dancing was everything to our people. I’d never understood why, until I met my wife,” J’onn said. His eyes took on the same bittersweet glow that Kara’s did when she thought about Krypton, and when the song ended, she kept swaying, letting J’onn have this moment with his memories. “M’yri’ah… she was the most beautiful dancer I’d ever seen. I wanted to impress her, and get closer to her. All of a sudden, I had a reason to dance. She was in my arms by the end of the next song.”

“That’s lovely.” Kara tilted her head, looking up at the man who seemed so warmed by the memories. “I wish I could’ve met her.”

He looked down at her, and smiled. “She would’ve liked you. Though,” he added, wincing when Kara jerked into motion as soon as she heard the strains of the next song start, “She would find me teaching anyone to dance rather hilarious. I would not be considered very talented by the standards of my world.”

Kara just shook her head in disbelief, finding it hard to imagine thinking J’onn’s light, nimble movements were sloppy. “When you came to Earth, you kept dancing. Why?”

“The same reason you paint the sunset on Krypton, I suppose,” J’onn mused, squeezing her hand before carefully twirling her. Kara, picturing the vibrant reds she used on her canvas, barely noticed herself going through the steps with ease. “I’ll carry my family and my people in my heart forever, but I was lonely. I needed to find some way to keep their memory alive and in front of me. Besides— there wasn’t much else to do on Earth in the 18th century besides dance.”

“I really must be learning from a master then,” Kara teased. “Didn’t dance with anyone famous, did you?”

“No, no,” J’onn laughed. “I kept a low profile. I must be an excellent teacher, though— one night of lessons, and look at you go.”

Kara glanced down, and to her own shock, found her feet following along to the music of their own accord. The music picked up, but she didn’t stumble; she and J’onn kept on waltzing along the hardwood floor without a single board creaking. She began to hover without thinking, and he went along with it. The next few songs were spent in buoyant laughter, the two of them twirling and gliding mid-air. 

“See?” J’onn said at last, when his old record came spinning to a stop and they touched back on the ground. He went over to the couch, and Kara followed, feeling elated by the progress. “What did I tell you? Don’t worry so much, and you’ll make a fine dancer.”

“You’re right. It feels… unguarded,” Kara said, sitting down and fixing her ponytail. J’onn offered her a glass of water, and she accepted it gratefully. “But maybe you have to be vulnerable. I stopped thinking about the steps when I started listening to your story instead.”

“The best partners share more than just a simple dance, Kara. If you’re lucky, you’ll find someone to share a life with.” 

She couldn’t help but wonder who J’onn was talking about— her perfect partner. The answer came to mind easily; she was doing all of this for Lena, wasn’t she? She and Lena had always just… fit together. It was so natural that it had felt less like discovery and more like coming home. If there was anyone Kara wanted to dance the night away with, it was her best friend.

“I’m no longer a complete embarrassment on the dance floor, then?” When J’onn just shook his head and grinned, Kara took that as a success. “Awesome,” she continued awkwardly, starting to feel like she needed an excuse for barging in like this, even a flimsy one. “I needed a new hobby.”

“Mmmm. So I heard. Alex mentioned you’d been asking around.” J’onn took a breath, glancing over quickly and trying to hide the hint of a smile that was growing on his face. “With a little practice, you’ll be more than ready for the gala. I’m sure Lena will be impressed.”

Kara’s mouth dropped open before she could control her reaction to J’onn’s casual comment; she snapped it shut and turned to gawk at him, flustered. “No, I- I mean… what? How did you know?” When he started laughing again, Kara couldn’t help but smile in return, her glare half-hearted and tame. “Are you sure you aren’t reading my mind.”

“No, Kara. I don’t need to read your mind to know when you’re doing something for Lena.” J’onn shot her a piercing look that made her blush, but he was fond, not critical. “With you, it’s usually about Lena.”

She didn’t trust herself to reply, so she kept her mouth shut and gave a bashful smile to the ceiling. Kara only met J’onn’s gaze, softer now, when she felt his hand on her shoulder. “I hope I’m not getting too predictable, now,” she mumbled, her face still burning pink.

“If you are, then it’s in the best way. I can always be certain that you will do anything for the people you care about. And, they do the same for you.” Kara let out some variant of _aww shucks,_ deflective, but J’onn kept his eyes on her. “You know, I still remember the way she acted after you fought Reign.”

“What, you mean when she thought I was sick and Winn made you put on my bathrobe and slippers and play the part?” 

“Yes. Which you will need a lot of convincing to make me do again.” Kara could remember how much grumbling J’onn had done after the time Cat Grant had figured out her identity, and believed it. “Under most circumstances, I hate doing it. But that time around, I gained insight into what you meant to her.”

“You gossiped, if I remember right,” Kara joked, feeling very exposed, for her sake and Lena’s. J’onn had a way of peering into the heart of what made something tick, and Kara was as nervous as she was tempted to hear what he’d gleaned about her and Lena. “She talked to you about kissing James, didn’t she? That must’ve been fun to hear about.”

There was something sour in her tone that not even Kara could name; even if J’onn couldn’t either, he still noticed it, his eyes flashing for a moment. She blamed it on recent events, seeing as, during Thanksgiving, Lena and James had broken up. Whatever they were to each other now, Kara knew wouldn’t last, and she’d been trying to figure out how to feel about it. If there was one clear thing, it was that the deep-seated feeling of elation was not one that should ever surface, and one that Kara was ashamed to even think about.

“What stuck with me— what still sticks with me today— is her unwavering loyalty to you.” J’onn squeezed her shoulder, and something about the decisive way he said it made Kara’s back straighten. “Maybe no one ever told you this part, but your best friend dropped everything to go find you some soup. You won’t find many people who’ll do something like that.”

“She’s special, J’onn. I want to do something for her, before…” Kara shrugged helplessly, unable to talk about _that_ impending decision any more, and J’onn, who’d always had a knack of reading between the lines of what Kara was trying to say, just nodded. He smiled, and Kara trusted him enough to believe, for a moment, that everything would be okay.

“I understand. But for what it’s worth, I think you’ve found the right partner for all of this. I saw it with my own eyes the bond you two share. Give it a chance, and trust it won’t break.”

“Alright,” she said after a moment of thinking. J’onn was like a father to her and Alex, and he rarely steered her in the wrong direction. Maybe he had seen enough of whatever was happening between her and her best friend to understand that things would turn out well in the long run. Kara was conflicted about it enough to latch on to whatever advice she could get, especially from J’onn. He was right. She should trust in Lena— and maybe stop worrying so much. “Fingers crossed I don’t break any of her toes.”

“I can’t imagine she’d be mad even if you did, but you won’t.” The Martian had more confidence than Kara did, but that was probably because he was the one teaching her. Kara smiled in thanks anyways, and leaned across the couch to pull J’onn into a one-armed hug. The frame groaned at her sudden movement, and J’onn laughed again at yet another apology that tumbled from her mouth. She needed to get out of this office before she broke something in half. “You have fun too, okay? Enjoy the night for what it is.”

“I will,” she promised, standing up. J’onn did the same, and they hugged for real this time, Kara making sure that all of her limbs were in control. She grabbed her things and headed for the door, but when she heard J’onn put on another record, she stopped for a moment. “And J’onn?”

“Hmm?” He called back, still reading the back of the record sleeve, tapping his foot absently. Kara could picture him back on Mars, seeing his wife and letting the music finally consume him. She imagined it didn’t look much different than her dancing with Lena for the first time.

“If you ever want a partner to dance with, I would be honored.” She paused, smiling softly at the way J’onn turned fully to stare at her, his mouth turning upwards as well in a slow, wistful movement. “I know it’ll never be the same, but… I’ll be there if you need me.”

“You’re my family now, Kara Zor-El. The honor would be all mine.”

… 

By the time the gala had finally arrived, Kara had practiced enough that Johann Strauss had started showing up in her dreams. She went over the steps as often as she could: in her bedroom, apartment hallway, and any open rooftop she could find. She counted herself lucky that no wandering news helicopter had happened upon Supergirl spinning and gliding in the commercial district; Alex would have plenty of questions, and if Lena saw the nightly news with a story like that… well. Kara could think of much better ways to go about telling Lena her secret.

Her best friend had caught Kara Danvers swaying to herself in Catco’s bullpen, and that had been hard enough to explain away. It had been late at night, and Kara had just come back from her Supergirl duties to finish up the format for a digital assignment she’d been working with Franklin on, and honestly, she hadn’t thought anyone else was in the building. Catco was devoid of the usual echoing footsteps and clacking keyboards and whispered voices that Kara was used to with her hearing. When she was greeted with silence— except for the janitor two floors below, jamming out with his headphones on— Kara decided to play some music of her own, just until the article was finished.

Of course, she got sidetracked, and that was exactly the moment Lena had shown up.

Kara hadn’t heard the sound of the private elevator or the distinctive sound of heels on linoleum until it was too late; Lena stuttered to a stop when she saw Kara alone and dancing in the middle of the empty floor, humming to herself and probably acting a little unhinged. Kara was never serious when she danced, but now, it was like she was training for an Olympic event.

“Umm, Kara?” At Lena’s words, the spell was broken, and Kara was yanked out of her concentration. Her eyes widened at the very specific, recognizable voice that she’d just heard, and in her panic, Kara crashed into the closest thing to her— a spinning chair, which, after she landed with a thud on the floor, rolled lazily over to bump against Lena’s legs. “Oh my god,” Lena said in the silence, taking a step towards Kara but looking like she was trying not to laugh. “Are you alright? What’s… going on?”

“Lena! Fancy seeing you here, in this… building… that you own. How was your day?” Kara cursed herself for whatever dumb, frantic thing she’d just said, her mind still occupied with how to pull this off and still surprise Lena at the gala. She didn’t know how much Lena had seen of her dancing; all she could do was hope that the surprise wasn’t ruined. “Make anybody cry?”

“You’re not reading any of my HR complaints, are you?” Lena teased, but her eyebrow was still arched, and she seemed incredibly amused by whatever was happening. “Do you need help getting up… or?”

Kara began to stutter when she realized she was still motionless on the ground. “No! Nope! I’m good.” She scrambled to her feet and began straightening up whoever’s desk she’d collided with, a big, awkward smile on her face the entire time. “Good as new!”

Lena didn’t reply, walking forwards until they were nose to nose. As always, Kara swallowed hard when the other woman got close, and did her best not to get lost in the flowery scent of her perfume. Even at the end of the day, Lena smelled incredible. 

A hand reached up carefully, and Kara went cross-eyed, wondering if Lena was going to take her glasses off. Instead, her finger tapped the little crease that had appeared above Kara’s eyebrow, and Kara reminded herself to get back at Alex for ever telling Lena about the stupid crinkle. “You don’t have anything you’d like to tell me, would you Kara?” Lena asked, with her sweetest, honey voice. Kara gulped, and Lena smirked, sensing victory.

“Well, you caught me,” she said, looking around for a source of inspiration. When her eyes landed on a familiar workspace, her mind sparked back to life, and an excuse surfaced. “I’ve been trying to prank Nia for weeks, and today she left her bag at Catco. I snuck back to enact my revenge.”

“Why didn’t you say so? Revenge is a family specialty, you know,” Lena reminded, the smile on her face lighter than most when she mentioned the Luthors. Something warmed inside of Kara; maybe Lena was starting to let some of that baggage go, at least in her company. “And, the dancing?” she asked. Kara wasn’t out of the woods just yet.

“How else do you celebrate vengeance?” she replied theatrically, raising her fist in victory and starting to spin around the floor again. Lena must have bought it, because she rolled her eyes and bit back a smile.

“Try not to pull a muscle,” she said, stopping by Jame’s office and grabbing the paperwork that she had apparently come for. She started walking back towards the elevator, and Kara, grabbing her things and Nia’s bag for emphasis, bounded to catch up, matching their strides by the time the doors opened. After she hit the button for the ground floor, Lena turned to her, something gleeful shining in her eye. “I’d hate to lose my favorite dancer to injury right before the biggest gala of the year.”

“Scout’s honor,” Kara promised, knowing the only thing she was at risk of bruising was her pride. They parted ways in the lobby, with Kara making up some excuse for walking home instead of hopping in with Lena and Frank.

“I’m holding you to that promise, you know,” Lena said. Frank rounded the corner and began to slow down, and she reached over to Kara for a quick hug. “Careful with those ankles. No sprains, alright?”

Kara had a goofy little grin on her face that was always there after Lena so freely initiated any form of physical contact, and she took a bit to reply. Lena was already laughing at the flustered silence, and she laughed harder when Kara tried to recover. “I’ll rest, ice, compress, and elevate. That’s what you’re supposed to do, right?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t know,” Lena said with a smirk, taking off her monstrously tall heels as if to prove a point. Her window was rolled up, and she called out as it was closing, “My ankles are most certainly not weak.”

She drove off, leaving Kara with an open mouth and renewed excitement for the end of the week. However long she had to practice, she would sweep Lena off her feet at that gala.

By the time that Friday had rolled around, everything was ready. Kara had bought a new, navy blue dress, feeling more nervous about it than usual, and had spent hours online figuring out a hairstyle that she liked— and that she thought she could convince Alex to help her with. She’d spent one more afternoon with J’onn, dancing and talking and laughing until Kara felt confident. The last step was ensuring a song selection that she _could_ dance to without messing up— which meant talking to Jess.

Lena’s secretary was about as good at intimidating people as her boss was, and if Kara was honest with herself, she was more afraid of Jess. It was obvious that the woman held a grudge against her from the first time Kara had sped past her into Lena’s office, and ever since then, their relationship had been… cordial at best. Lena claimed Jess didn’t hate Kara, but Kara wasn’t so sure. She had faced off against supervillains who looked friendlier than that tough, terrifying woman.

Still, she’d been working on getting through to Jess for years now, and if there was ever a chance for Kara to get a favor out of her, it would be now. Jess had received _years_ of complimentary coffee, sweets, pastries, and whatever else Kara could produce. One time, she had even resorted to memorizing her favorite shades of nail polish, giving her a free trip to the spa along with refills of that green color she loved so much. Jess had always accepted the gifts with narrowed eyes and thinned lips, but Kara had never _not_ managed to win someone over, and Jess was not going to be the first. After all, she didn’t buy extra sticky buns for just anyone— other than Lena, of course.

She told Jess about her plan three days in advance, when she stopped by LCorp over an hour early for her planned lunch date with Lena. She figured that was plenty of time for all involved, but after she explained everything to Jess, the woman just scowled, typing furiously on her tablet and barely sparing Kara a glance.

“You realize we’ve had the music selection finalized for months now, don’t you?” she told Kara, unimpressed. Kara grimaced and wished that Lena had put enthusiastic, bubbly Eve in charge of the gala this time around, because she would much rather deal with her than this stern statue of a woman. “Maybe you don’t understand how much work goes into events like this, but every song— every _note_ — is chosen for a precise reason. I can’t change that without ruining the entire atmosphere of the party.”

Kara forced a polite, sunny smile on her face and hoped it would thaw the other woman. “Surely _one_ song wouldn’t do much damage, would it? I can even give you a list of options! All you need is to squeeze one of them in. That’s… what? Four minutes? Come on!”

Jess remained unaffected, frowning across from her desk. “Absolutely not.”

“Please? As a favor for a friend?” Kara batted her eyes for emphasis. It was a look that worked on even J’onn, but instead Jess crossed her arms and ground her foot into the floor.

“We are _not_ friends. I… tolerate you, that’s all. For Miss Luthor’s sake.”

“But this is for Lena!” Kara’s voice grew earnest, and when she lowered her voice and cleared her throat, preparing to plead her case, Jess actually had the nerve to roll her eyes at her. “I’m doing this for her. You can understand wanting to do something nice for her, can’t you?”

The other woman scoffed, mumbling a few choice words before slamming the tablet down on the desk; she was resigned to the fact that Kara wasn’t going to give up easily, but she wasn’t happy about it. “Of _course_ ,” she hissed, sparing a glance over at the closed door of Lena’s office before sending a full-on glare Kara’s way. “I think it’s very nice of me to put up with your loud, disruptive, trouble-causing-”

“Hey!” Kara interrupted, but Jess ignored her with spite now in her eyes.

“-unrefined behavior that Miss Luthor seems to find oh so endearing, but you don’t fool me, Kara Danvers!” She shook a finger at her this time, and Kara was so surprised she actually took a step back. “I’ve worked for her for six years, and I’ve seen it all. Do you think you’re the first to drop off lattes and cookies at my desk?”

“I thought you liked those lattes! I memorized your order for you.”

“You always ask for two too many pumps of vanilla.” 

“Gosh, well, consider it done, next time we see each other.”

Jess leaned forwards, practically snarling. “No matter how charming she thinks you are, I know who you really are.”

Kara’s eyes widened. As always, her mind leaped to the giant secret that loomed over her shoulder. “And what am I?” she asked, apprehensive now, pushing her glasses back up her nose on reflex.

Jess was silent for a moment, taking in a breath. “You’re just like the others,” she said at last. “None of them have ever stayed. Eventually, you’re going to break her heart too.”

Kara’s face fell. Maybe it wasn’t the truth that she was worried about Jess knowing, but it still stung all the same. Jess was looking at her like she knew it, too, which only made everything worse. Lena’s secretary had been nothing but loyal, and really was just trying to do the right thing. Kara couldn’t fault her for that.

“Maybe you’re right,” she said, not missing the way Jess perked up at her admission. “Maybe one day I will hurt her. Maybe I’ll mess up. But I would never leave. When you love someone the way I love Lena, you don’t run away when there’s trouble. At least give me a chance to prove that to you— and to her.”

There was silence from the other woman, who studied Kara after she finished speaking. It was harsh, and critical, and not merciful in the slightest— and oddly enough, Kara found herself thankful for it. Here in front of her was proof that Lena had another person who was absolutely, resolutely in her corner, and even if it was at her expense, Kara was just glad that Jess was so tough when it came to Lena. One day, if she and Lena truly did part ways because of her secret, Kara would rest easier knowing that Jess would stick by her. It made enduring those icy glares all those years worth it.

“You really do love her.” Jess didn’t pose it as a question, but more of a simple fact. Kara just shrugged, sticking her hands in her pockets and sending Jess a truthful, sad smile. “You’d be one of the few.”

“I’m not perfect, and I don’t know if I deserve Lena. But if I can make her happy, then I will.” Kara took the crumpled, carefully compiled list from out of her pocket, and slid it under the woman’s keyboard. “Lena hates these parties. You know it, and so do I. I’m just trying to give her a good memory of one.”

Jess glanced down at the list, seeing the crossed-out songs and the ones underlined or with hearts around them. Then, she looked back up at Kara, and the most impossible thing happened: Jess actually softened, shaking her head in disbelief. 

“Unbelievable,” she muttered, not angry at Kara anymore, but as if she couldn’t imagine that she would ever go along with this newfound turn of events. After a drawn-out, long-suffering sigh, Jess turned back to her, and with one look Kara knew she’d caved. “You get one song, towards the end of the night. One. Got it? And if you spill even _one_ person’s champagne glass or trip anyone important with your hideous excuse for a waltz, then I will personally escort you off the premises and not even Miss Luthor will be able to find you afterward.”

That was a threat; not even Kara was oblivious enough to miss words so sharply barbed, even coming from a woman who was at least a foot shorter than her. She nodded intently, just trying not to look too victorious lest she incurred Jess’ wrath right here and now.

“I’ve been practicing for the past three weeks. If I mess up, I’ll help you dig my grave myself.”

Jess ignored her stilted attempt at levity, still staring at Kara as if she had never seen anyone like her. If Kara didn’t know better, she would wonder if Jess really thought she was from another planet. 

“You’re the strangest one yet,” she commented, picking her tablet back up and typing in a long, complicated password with practiced ease. Kara knew that in a few moments, their relationship would pivot back to its usual place. She wondered if the honesty in the secretary’s eyes would fade away as well. “I’ve never understood what she sees in you. But now- you’re just like her, aren’t you?” Jess fixed Kara with one more dangerous look— not one of annoyance, but a warning. “I really hope you meant what you said, because if you didn’t… Miss Luthor will never get over someone like you.”

“Jess, I…”

“Kara! You’re here early!” Lena’s voice broke the heavy silence that had grown between the two of them, And Kara and Jess both whirled around to greet her— Kara with her usual sunny smile, and Jess with a polite nod. It was a normal interaction on a typical day, but Lena must have picked up on the lingering tension in the air, because her own smile faltered, her eyes flickering between them. “Is everything okay?” she asked.

“Wonderful, Miss Luthor,” Jess answered when Kara hesitated, standing up and handing a stack of papers to her boss and reverting back to her usual unaffected, professional self. “We were both just talking about how excited we are for the gala this Friday. It’ll be perfect, don’t you think?” 

Kara spared a glance back at Jess only to find her eyes flashing, the unspoken expectation evident. “I can’t wait,” she said, giving her a small smile before turning back to Lena, who was watching them with a beaming grin of her own.

“I’m so glad you two have gotten on friendlier terms,” Lena said. “You know, Kara, Jess could always use someone to talk to during parties like these. She’s more stressed about these things than even I am. Maybe you can swing by her table this time, get to know her outside of this lobby. I know how much I feel better after talking to you.”

“Sure!” Kara agreed, choking back a scoff. She didn’t even have to look behind her to know that Jess would rather have the venue go up in flames than have a voluntary conversation with Kara. They had reached a truce, however uneasy, and Kara wasn’t about to get on her bad side again. “Now, about lunch?”

Lena led the way out towards the elevator, saying something about kombucha and a Cuban fusion place that she’d heard rave reviews about, and Kara scurried after her. When she looked back, Jess was still watching, new understanding coloring her face. Kara nodded once, an unspoken promise to Jess and to Lena, before turning back to follow her best friend. She hadn’t won Jess over; maybe she never would, but this gala would be the place to prove to the other woman that what she felt for Lena was true.

Kara wasn’t like the others, she knew that much. What scared her most is that she could be worse.

… 

In all of her life, Kara had never considered herself to be a very lucky person. If anything, misfortune followed her more doggedly than anything else on this Earth, and while Kara had learned to deal with it just fine, she still wished for a break. Just one blessed, uneventful night, where everything went her way for once.

That night was as close to a miracle as she could have asked for.

Everything went off without a hitch. She finished her Supergirl heroics by six, ate a veritable feast and her favorite Chinese buffet, tipping extra much to the delight of the owners, and after stopping to break up a brawl at a nearby pub and help a girl rescue her kite out of her neighbor’s fire escape, met Alex and Nia at her apartment by a quarter after seven. The party started at 8:30, and for the first time in years, Kara was optimistic that she would actually be on time.

Just Kara Danvers had been invited to this year’s event, so she didn’t need to worry about pulling double duty. Instead, she got ready for a party like any other person— mainly, sipping on the wine Nia had brought over (the girl, who had never been to an event like this, was ecstatic to learn that there was free booze included), watch her sister wrestle herself into a dress, and leave getting ready herself for the last minute.

Alex had agreed— after some strategic compliments and generous bribery from her sister— to put Kara’s hair up in a gorgeous updo. Not many people would suspect this of Alex Danvers, but she had always loved braiding Kara’s hair when they were younger. Though she feigned reluctance about it now, Kara knew that even now, it was still one of her favorite things to do.

Unable to hide it any longer, Kara finally told the two of them about what she had plotted for her and Lena that night. She didn’t know what to expect for a reaction, but Alex and Nia just shared one of their looks that were starting to become a staple in every conversation she had with them and wished her luck. Alex kept shaking her head, shrugging when Kara asked her why, and Nia— well, Nia was torn between making jokes about Kara literally bringing down the dance floor and gushing nonsensically about her and Lena.

“You two are so cute it’s just unreal!” she squealed, clapping her hands together; Alex coughed something into her beer bottle, and Kara smiled, feeling blissfully clueless.

“That’s what friends are for,” was all she managed to say before Alex let out a groan. “What?” she asked, and was poked by a bobby pin in response.

“Hold still, twinkle-toes, unless you want to miss your dance,” Alex said, and with a huff, Kara quieted down. She was excited enough that even Nia and Alex’s cryptic teasing wasn’t enough to get on her nerves.

The rest of the preparations went by smoothly, and before she knew it, Kara was at the gala. Lena had selected an old, abandoned ballroom for this year’s event; Kara had seen what the place looked like before and was blown away by the sight in front of her now. The cobwebs and the shattered windows and the faded floor were gone, cleaned up and repaired, and polished until the place looked out of an old movie. She looked up and saw her favorite part of the building, its exposed view of the stars. What had originally been a large hole in the roof, Lena turned it into a skylight instead. The entire night sky stretched out over their heads, and Kara couldn’t stop looking up, awestruck. 

How could anyone think Lena wasn’t capable of building anything good out of her family’s legacy when there was evidence this beautiful?

Alex and Nia filed in behind her. The younger girl was absolutely over the moon, and even her sister was impressed. “This place cleans up well,” she said snidely, leaning in to whisper while Nia made a beeline to the open bar. “Do you remember getting your ass kicked by that K’Hund here, way back when you were first Supergirl?”

Everything clicked into place, and Kara fought a rising blush. This place did look familiar now that she thought about it— and if she thought about it some more, she was likely the reason why this building had been in such rough shape to begin with. “Shut up,” she muttered to Alex, who had grabbed a champagne glass from a passing waiter and was snickering as she downed it. “I beat him in the end, didn’t I?”

“Come on, you know how much I love your days as a rookie. Think about the memories! Ooh! All those terrible suits Winn made you at first.”

“Oh! Your stupid polo shirt and your stupid desert DEO base,” Kara shot back, and Alex made an offended noise. “Do you know how annoying it is flying through the sand at high velocities? Sometimes, I think there’s still some in my ears.”

“That would explain why you never seem to listen to me,” Alex said, getting Kara right back. The two of them watched Nia nearly spill her cocktail sauce onto the dress of National City’s District Attorney, clearly not knowing who it was she bumped into. By some miracle for Nia, James showed up at her elbow dressed smartly in a suit and with a megawatt smile, smoothing over what could have been a disastrous interaction with his friendly face. Kara and Alex just laughed, watching the color drain from Nia’s face when she realized who she was talking to. 

“She reminds me of you when you were just starting out,” Alex said, shaking her head at the younger girl from where they still lingered by the entrance. “You’ve come a long way from that earnest, clumsy assistant. I’m proud of you, you know.”

“I’m proud of you too, Director Danvers.” They shared a smile. “Happy New Years. I love you.”

“Auld Lang Syne,” Alex replied, wrapping an arm around Kara and ushering them both into the crowd. They met up with Nia and James at a nearby table, Kara helping herself to the abundance of food. J’onn, and Brainy found them not long after and just like that, the party kicked into high gear.

Kara knew she wouldn’t see Lena for most of the party; the CEO had other duties she needed to attend to after all, and Kara wouldn’t risk the ire of Jess if she got in the way of that. She saw glimpses of her best friend, though— talking to the mayor, and taking a picture with a group of unnamed people, likely the board of some fancy company, and generally making the rounds. She didn’t have to see Lena to know where she was at the party. The room would light up with laughter and camera flashes alike wherever the other woman went.

They’d made eye contact just once, when Kara had slunk over to the table where Jess had set up her base of command at. She didn’t try to get closer than ten feet to the secretary, whose spine had already stiffened. Kara slid a gift card to Noonan’s across the table, walking away without a word. After, when she was weaving her way back to the spot they’d claimed by the bar, she’d caught Lena’s gaze from across the room. 

It was a chance meeting, settled in between the moving bodies of the other partygoers, but it was enough for both of them. Lena was wearing the most stunning red dress, and smiled like she’d been waiting for Kara to look over all night, and even through the hustle and bustle, when she lit up at the sight and raised her hand in a dorky little wave, Kara could hear the soft twinkle of Lena’s laugh perfectly. She would always know what that sound was like.

Before she knew it, the party blew by in between glasses of champagne and giddy toasts shared by her and her friends, and her time was coming up. Everyone had begun winding down by then, sticking to their tables and talking with warm, private voices, or wandering out to the dancefloor with a partner. Trying not to seem antsy, Kara’s eyes began wandering themselves, looking for a particular face in the thinning crowd. 

“It’s probably a good thing Lena owns a hospital,” Alex said, after J’onn had finished telling the story of teaching Kara to dance. She should have known that he would hold that over her head, but Kara couldn’t find it in herself to be mad about it. Sure, maybe Alex and her friends all got to laugh at her expense, but it would be worth it. “Speaking of which, shouldn’t you go find your girl? The night won’t last forever.”

Kara couldn’t even scowl at the teasing, nerves blossoming suddenly against her ribcage. Despite all of the practice, and the planning, and the effort that she’d put into this, it would only be worth it if Lena liked it. Would her best friend even want to dance with her at her gala? It was one of the most important events of the year for Lena, after all. Maybe there was a reason why she had been so isolated from their group the entire night. Maybe, Kara would end up ruining the night instead of making it better.

“Kara.” A hand waved in front of her face, and Kara was brought back to the table. Her sister had leaned in towards her, quiet compared to the sounds of the party around them. “She’ll love it, okay? Don’t worry about it. Just, go out there and make her smile.”

Her friends all gave her supportive smiles; even James, who Kara imagined would want to dance with Lena himself, no matter how strained their relationship was at the moment, gave her two big, drunken thumbs up. Then, Kara heard someone clear her throat behind her. She turned, and there was Jess, knuckles white from how hard she was gripping her flute of champagne, and looking like she already regretted coming over here.

“Your song is up next, Miss Danvers,” Jess said, and seeing the other people staring at her, seemed to realize that a death glare wasn’t appropriate. She forced a grimacing smile instead, one that didn’t reach her eyes, and Kara stood up, putting her out of her polite misery. “I’ll be watching you,” Jess growled once Kara got within earshot. “You know the rules.”

“No public embarrassment, or else a bounty goes on my head. Got it!” she chirped. It was New Years after all; maybe the next year would bring a fresh start between her and Lena’s secretary. She might as well keep up with the friendliness, even if now she knew that Jess didn’t appreciate it in the slightest. “You know, you’re really starting to grow on me, Jess,” she was unable to resist saying, and to her surprise, a sliver of a real smile grew on the other woman’s face in response.

“You’re… bearable, I suppose.”

Kara beamed, knowing that was as good as she would ever get from Jess. She took it as a victory; she needed a boost of confidence anyways. “Thanks, Jess,” she said, and throwing one last grin back at her friends, wandered off to find Lena. 

As if she couldn’t have planned it any better, Kara found Lena in the middle of the ballroom, idle under the glow of the stars. She’d already been dancing for at least an hour; Kara had seen her cutting through the crowds with experienced poise. No partner stayed more than one dance before Lena was off to the next, and the partners that she did have were nothing next to Lena’s skill. Her steps were complicated and flawless, and ones that Kara could finally match with her own rudimentary ones.

Most importantly, Lena’s smile had never reached her eyes. Kara took a deep breath and walked forwards, hoping to change that for good. 

“Miss Luthor,” she said, deepening her voice and tapping Lena on the shoulder. When Lena spun around, the small, rehearsed smile on her disappeared the moment she realized who it was. “You’ve really outdone yourself with this gala.”

“Kara!” she laughed, eyebrows knitted and a confused but genuine smile on her face. “What are you doing out here?” She wrung her hands together, glancing around at the people around them with thinly-veiled lethargy. “I’m sorry. I’ve been meaning to find you all night, but I can never seem to get a moment away from all this,” she said, waving a hand in a gesture at the leering investors in their black-tie best.

Kara stood up straight, and tilted her head over at her best friend. This was her moment to help Lena see that dancing could be more than just an obligation. “Well, how about now?”

Lena still hadn’t caught on. “I’m not sure what you mean,” she said.

Somewhere in the distance, Kara could hear a song end and a very familiar tune begin. It was fairly simple, and nothing like the intricate compositions that had been playing all night long, but it was a sweet melody that reminded Kara of the songs they loved to listen to. She was glad Jess had chosen this one. Lena noticed the change in music too, and when she looked back up into Kara’s eyes, there was an unspoken question on her face.

Kara just smiled, and held out a hand in invitation. “Can I have this dance?”

Lena froze, in disbelief over the suggestion that Kara Danvers was asking her to dance. “You don’t know how to waltz,” she said, arching a brow but taking Kara’s hand anyway. It was an instinctive act of trust, and Kara smiled even wider when she brought their hands into place. 

“I might just surprise you,” she said.

She heard J’onn’s instructions in her head, and slowly but surely, began following along with the music. Lena stepped with her, completely speechless. It wasn’t often that Lena Luthor resorted to being inarticulate, and Kara had to bite back a sly grin at the astonished glaze in Lena’s wide eyes.

“What- How?” Lena laughed, looking down at Kara’s feet as if expecting them to belong to someone else. She couldn’t stop shaking her head, and in a strange reversal of roles, Kara was the one doing most of the work in guiding them across the floor. “Kara, you- you actually know how to waltz!”

This was maybe the most delighted Kara had ever seen Lena, and just like that, any nervousness she had about how her best friend would react to this stunt melted away. She smiled hard, and brought Lena closer to her. “I’ve been taking some lessons,” she revealed.

“Why on earth would you do that? I thought you…” Lena trailed off when she caught the endeared, expectant look on Kara’s face— and everything finally fell into place for the other woman. “This is… for me?” she asked, as if she still couldn’t believe it.

“Well, duh! Who else would I learn to waltz for?” Kara began to pout, trying to get a laugh out of Lena. She still had a blank look on her face, absolutely aghast. “I wanted to surprise you, since you always seem so miserable dancing out here alone.”

Lena started blinking hard, and when she swallowed and looked back up with shining eyes, Kara knew she was trying not to cry. Immediately, she panicked; it was never her intention to make her cry, never meant to expose a side of Lena she maybe didn’t want to be unearthed. She knew how many eyes were still watching them even now, and knew Lena would inevitably be forced to deal with abuse if she was caught crying at her own gala. On instinct, she shielded Lena from any watchful members of the board, waltzing along until they were on the outskirts of the floor, taking advantage of the privacy it provided.

“I’m so sorry, I never meant for- I didn’t mean to.” She stopped, her brain frazzled and her words beginning to ramble. “Please don’t be sad, Lena,” she tried. “This wasn’t supposed to make you sad.”

“No, Kara. I’m not sad,” Lena said reaching up and wiping the moisture away, her eyeliner still flawless. “You could never make me sad. It’s just… no one’s ever done something like this for me.” Lena’s eyes grew distant, like they did whenever she looked back into the past. “Before… everything, Lex used to- he would dance with me. I used to think these nights were the best in the world, and it seems I lost that when I grew up. When he didn’t turn out to be the person I wanted him to be. I’ve never been much of a fan of waltzing since.”

“I’m sorry, Lena.”

“No, Kara. Don’t be. This is very kind, and very thoughtful. I didn’t think anyone noticed how I felt about these kinds of things, but you… you never cease to amaze me. You’ve helped me see the joy in this again.” She cleared her throat and squeezed Kara’s hand, who after giving Lena one more concerned once-over, squeezed back. “Now, there’s nothing I’d like to do than to dance with you. A proper one.”

Kara’s ears perked, listening with a sinking heart as her song was winding to an end. It wasn’t all that she’d hoped for, but it was all she would get. “I’m not very good,” she said, suddenly bashful. “I only know the basic steps, and the music-”

“-Won’t matter. I don’t care if you’re good. Dance with me, will you?”

Unable to protest when Lena was looking at her like that, Kara nodded. Lena smiled, and began leading them gradually back under the skylight. There were candles lit in all of the old, antique chandeliers, and their light did their own dance across their faces, swirling and flickering. Where the rest of the room seemed cast in soft shadows, Lena’s face had fallen into the starlight, and Kara didn’t even need to look up above them when her favorite constellations were now shining down on her best friend.

Lena was breathtaking. She was the most beautiful thing Kara had ever seen in any galaxy, and she wondered how she hadn’t realized that sooner.

“Kara?” Lena said, after what could’ve been hours later. They’d gotten lost in the music; and she knew for certain that she’d stolen Lena away for more than just one dance. 

“Yeah?” Kara glanced down quickly only to be unable to look away from Lena’s face. She had the strangest expression on it— beautiful, and hesitant, and so, so warm. Lena looked like she was glowing. It reminded her of the way she had looked at her all those years ago at the holiday party, in the candlelight. She resisted the urge to run a hand down Lena’s cheek, just to see if her skin was as soft as it looked. 

They spun again as another song ended; at this point in the night, they were one of the last pairs out on the floor, most everyone else already tapped out— or too drunk to stand. In the back of her mind, Kara couldn’t help but wonder how many hostess duties Lena had shirked just to keep dancing with her. Maybe the eyes she’d been feeling on her all night belonged to a very grumpy secretary, who Kara had promised she wouldn’t make a mess of the night.

She couldn’t bring herself to care about wherever Jess was hidden away planning her murder when the night had been so magical. Lena was a completely different person when she was waltzing with Kara, at least to the outside world. This gentle, open, wonderful person she was dancing with was the woman that Kara had always known— and now, everyone else got to see just a glimpse of the way Kara saw her best friend. It was a world away from the way she’d acted at her galas in the past, and for Kara, that was all she’d been trying to change.

“Nothing,” Lena said at last, jolting Kara back. She bit her lip and took in another breath, but when Kara raised an eyebrow, she just shrugged. “Never mind.”

“What?” Kara laughed, when Lena gave her that look again, like she was gathering up the courage to say something. “Come on, you know you can tell me anything.”

“I…” When Lena gazed up at her this time, there was something charged, and Kara could feel her own heartbeat increase in response to its heat. Lena seemed ready to change everything, and Kara was along for the ride. But then, the moment passed; Lena glanced away and sighed. When their eyes met again, that wild energy was gone, with only warmth remaining. “I’m just… happy. You make me very happy, Kara.”

“Lena,” Kara said, feeling tears prick her eyes. She wasn’t sad; how could she be? It was just that… sometimes, being around Lena made her want to cry. Sometimes, she would be with Lena and truly see her for the brave, kind, lonely, _beautiful_ person that she was, and Kara would want to drop to her knees and weep. Because here was someone that Kara had always hoped to find, and somehow across the stars, she had. “You make me happy too. That’s why I- you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

Even those words seemed to fall flat in comparison to the absolute hold Lena had on her heart, but Lena’s own eyes began to fill with tears, glimmering emeralds under the candlelight, and they both laughed, swaying there to the music even as their timing was horrifically off. For someone who used to treat these galas as an obligatory mission, Lena didn’t seem to care that their waltzing was about two songs behind, or that people were staring over at them, drunk and murmuring so loosely that Kara couldn’t pick up on the words if she’d tried. But Lena’s eyes never left her own.

She was unburdened, relieved of her Luthor responsibility that was always like a cold hand on her shoulder, and Kara allowed herself a moment of pride. She had helped Lena feel like this, had helped free her best friend from the weight across her back with a song and dance. The fact that it was something so simple made it even better; Kara hoped that no matter what, Lena would always have this.

Lena moved in closer, and there was the fire again, in her eyes and on her breath and in the flash of white teeth as she opened her mouth to take in a breath, never breaking their stare. Kara blinked behind her glasses, fighting the urge to push them back up the bridge of her nose. It felt like Lena could see right inside of her, and Kara was entranced, rooted to the spot even as she wanted to hide from the intensity of the moment.

The music built to a crescendo before stopping all at once; the other couples stopped dancing, and everything seemed to slow. They stayed pressed tight, both breathing heavily for some reason, and Kara’s eyes darted down to where Lena’s tongue had poked out, wetting her lips. Her eyes traveled back up to where Lena was still watching, her own eyes wide and dark and swept up in whatever was happening. Something was building in the air, rapidly taking them both skyward, and all Kara could do was keep her eyes on Lena, waiting for the tension to break. 

A camera bulb flashed somewhere off to their right, and through the roar in her ears, Kara could hear one of their friends exclaim something, their table suddenly quiet. She didn’t pay them any mind, only able to focus on Lena, leaning in, Lena a lopsided, genuine smile growing, Lena, looking up at her, Lena, Lena, Lena…

And then all at once, it stopped. 

Kara wasn’t sure what happened; maybe, another drunken couple jostled into them, or maybe, a new song began. She was in too much of a daze to register what exactly caused Lena’s eyes to close and then open again abruptly, as if shaken awake. They both came back to the room; Lena took a slight step back, and whatever was happening, Kara knew it was over.

“Wow,” she breathed, breaking their spell of silence with a goofy face and a grin. “I always knew you were a good dancer, but… is there anything you _can’t_ do?”

“You know I’m terrible at Pictionary, Kara,” Lena replied, her coyness returned. It was endearing, and entirely Lena, but Kara found herself missing the other Lena she’d been dancing with a moment ago— the one stripped entirely bare, and all the better for it.

She took their return to normalcy in stride, shrugging and starting to swing the two of them with too much enthusiasm. Lena stumbled in her heels, her feet leaving the floor for a few spins, and she laughed. “That’s why you’re my partner. As long as Alex doesn’t ban us from teaming up, that is.”

Lena just shook her head, still grinning. Her eyes shone, and she glanced up to the clock on the wall. It was almost midnight, and the gala was almost over. Kara found herself wishing that they could spend more hours like this. 

“I should go find James,” Lena said, making no real move to leave. Her arms stayed comfortable, half curled around Kara’s shoulder.

“Right!” Kara said, not wanting to move either. “And I,” she said, casting a glance over to their table, still silent and watching the two of them interact, “Should probably go chaperone Nia and Brainy.”

“Definitely,” Lena said, no real force behind her words. Hesitating once more, she pitched forward, landing a surprising and sweet kiss on Kara’s cheek. “Happy New Years, Kara, and thank you. I couldn’t have asked for a better partner.”

She broke away from Kara, at last, giving her one last lazy wave and a breathless smile, before disappearing back into the crowd. Kara just watched her go, lingering on the dancefloor even as the countdown began. As the bells tolled and people cheered, Kara was left dumbstruck, surrounded by embracing couples and spilled champagne and shining lights, nearly bowled over by the fire that Lena had left blazing in her veins. Even after Alex went and fetched her, dragging her back to the table where the others were celebrating, Kara couldn’t shake it. She was still dancing with Lena under the stars.

She hadn’t been able to name the feeling that had overwhelmed her that night, holding Lena so close to her. It was so sweet and so good that it nearly made her stumble with the ferocity of it, and for a split second when Lena smiled up at her and her knees buckled, Kara wondered if there was Kryptonite in the area. Or maybe, it was just Lena. Few feelings managed to consume Kara completely, and while Kryptonite was debilitating, being with Lena like this was like flying towards the sun.

That old Greek myth of Icarus and his wax wings had never made much sense to Kara. The sun gave her strength, and power, and light. But that night, she began to understand. She would gladly climb towards Lena and her warmth, even if it meant burning up along the way. Lena was worth the certainty of a plummet if that meant Kara could bask in her for a moment more.

That was the night, looking back on it now, that Kara knows she became irreversibly in love with Lena Luthor. They danced, and Kara fell, and there was nothing either of them could do about it.

She still remembers all of the steps, and can retrace them over her empty kitchen floor, but it’s hollow, and cold without her hands around Lena’s waist. All she wants is a chance to waltz with Lena again. Just once more under the stars, with Lena looking at her like she used to.

Maybe that would be enough.

Like Icarus, she feared that she had gotten too close to Lena, and now, with her lies crashing down right alongside her, she was already falling towards the dark sea. Lena was the sun, and Kara had fallen in love so hard and so fast she didn’t realize she was already igniting with the heat of it.

(It was still worth it, though. Those fleeting moments were more than enough to justify the heartache, and now, Kara just prayed that dance wouldn’t be their last.)

Most of all, though, she thinks now about what it was Lena was going to say to her that night. She had an inkling, back then, and it had grown into a terrible suspicion by now. Lena didn’t get that kind of spark in her eye often, and if she’s being honest with herself, Kara knows exactly what Lena wanted to tell her that night.

No matter the consequences, or the baggage between them, and no matter what came next, Kara knows that was the truth. And if one thing was for certain, it was that if Lena Luthor had told her that she was in love with her that night, Kara would have told her the same. She can’t help but wonder about what might have been different if she had.


	5. Chapter 5

_Who cares what happens now._

_Just keep your hand in mine._

_Your hand feels so grand in mine,_

_Let people say we're in love!_

Nothing between them changes until Kara finds out the world is about to end. Again. 

According to Barry, it’s multiple worlds actually, as he escorts her away to a parallel world yet again. His explanation is rushed, and Oliver’s is blunt, but Kara gets the gist. Blah blah blah, whoever they fought last year has an evil counterpart called the Anti-Monitor who, yadda yadda, wants to conquer all the parallel universes and blah blah blah, wipe them all from existence. All in all, pretty typical stakes for Kara. 

Barry’s science friends are scrambling around STAR Labs scribbling notes on every glass surface, and they look harried enough that she decides to help despite knowing she has melting ice cream on her kitchen counter. She reasons with herself that this time away from the mess back home can be a vacation; she puts on some sweats and swings by the fast-food chain that doesn’t exist on her earth but has the best fries she’s ever tasted. She can afford to kick back, to let her eyes drift shut even as the others continue to be blindsided by new revelations. Kara can take the blows as they come. After all this time, she doubts anything can surprise her anymore.

Until the Flash disappears for five minutes and runs back into the control room with her sister and _Lena Luthor_ in tow, and Kara chokes on the burger she's been looking forward to.

She’s been trying to ignore all this— has taken this trip away from home as a chance for her to substitute her heartache with a big, uncomplicated baddie to punch out. But her biggest problem is now here on Earth One, wearing designer heels and not a hair out of place despite the fact that she’d just hopped universes, and looking at Kara with narrowed eyes that grabs the attention of everyone else.

Lena, who she betrayed. Who she lied to for years out of a misguided intent to protect, but really she knows it was because she was terrified about what the truth would mean. Lena, whose heart she broke, and who broke hers in return when the pain and the anger finally came to the surface. 

They had a massive, blowup, massacre of a fight, after Kara couldn’t ignore Lena’s strained interactions for one second longer. There was screaming, and crying, and when Lena stormed away, silence— the brutal, cutting kind that did more to hurt Kara than any of the words thrown at her. Lena, who Kara couldn’t even look at without feeling the burning urge to cry, and Lena, who had walked away without turning back. They haven't so much as interacted for the last 37 days— not a text, not a call, not even a passing glance.

(Lena, who, after a long time coming, Kara finally realizes she’s fallen in love with, and now she can’t stop thinking about it.)

Kara pales. As it’s been for the past month or so, her first thought is of Lena. But this time, it isn’t about their relationship. She knows how breakable humans can be and this seems like a battle that was going to come with losses, and Lena absolutely can _not_ be one of those. She turns to Barry, brushing the crumbs off her suit self-consciously. “What are they doing here?” she asks as fiercely as possible for someone with hamburger wrappers scattered around them, raising her shoulders and lowering her voice if only to save face.

He just shrugs, too busy solving the crisis that now Kara is starting to think she should be paying more attention to. “Your sister’s a badass and kind of scary,” Barry supplies, “and we ran some calculations. We’re pretty sure Lena Luthor is the smartest person in this universe who isn’t evil. Plus, she was there when I showed up. Really, she volunteered.”

Kara spins to look at her sister, wanting someone to tell her when Lena had decided to start showing up to help defend the city again. She hadn’t been within a hundred yards of Supergirl or the DEO in the fallout of their fight, and the odds of her and Alex being in the same room together, anywhere, under any circumstance else seems slim to none. Kara is surprised Alex hadn’t taken away Lena’s security clearance, especially after she’d spent so much time sobbing into her sister’s shoulder about how awful things were between them.

Alex doesn’t forgive very easily, especially not when it comes to Kara. Seeing her and Lena standing united now, after all of the anger and betrayal and hurt, is impossible to adjust to.

Her sister is biting her lip, almost drawing blood, and her hand is wrapped tightly around her holster. She’s pissed, but more than that, scared. For the first time since she left, Kara wonders how long her little escape has gone on for. Time works differently when you’re hopping dimensions, after all.

“I- the DEO was looking for you,” Alex pipes up, giving Kara a classic big sister glare. “You’ve been gone six days. Just dropped off the face of the earth, so yeah, I was scared shitless. I welcomed all the help I could get.” 

It explains Alex and Lena’s newfound sense of camaraderie, at least, though Kara’s a little surprised Lena would know she was missing at all, much less try to help find her. “Well, now you found me,” she says, feeling guilt rise. She really should have left a note. Apologetic, she walks over to give her sister a hug for good measure. Alex softens, and Kara sighs. She doesn’t think she can handle anyone else being mad at her, not when she can see the stiffness in Lena’s spine from over Alex’s shoulder. “I’m sorry for worrying you,” Kara whispers. “I’m okay, just helping out with something. You should go back home.”

Even though she tries to add emphasis, some authority to the suggestion, her words are batted aside by her sister as if they mean nothing. Kara shouldn’t have thought differently. Alex is a soldier, after all, and she never misses out on helping Kara to fight her battles. 

It isn’t Alex, capable and disciplined and battle-tested as she is, that Kara is freaked out about.

“We’re running out of time, Kara,” Barry says, keeping his cowl on as if the Anti-Monitor is standing on their doormat. “We could use more people out in the front lines.”

“It’s too dangerous!” Kara says heatedly, and something in the way she says it causes Sara Lance to swivel in her chair, her full attention now on them. Great. The captain of the Legends could sniff out drama from a mile away, and now her eyes were on her. Kara takes a breath and tries to even her tone, still pointedly refusing to even glance in Lena’s direction. “Fine. Alex can stay, but Le- Miss Luthor? I thought we were trying to prioritize the wellbeing of citizens, not throw them into a warzone!”

“Like I said, she’s a genius and we need anyone who’s willing,” Barry counters, still not following why Alex is tensing up behind Kara, why Kara looks ready to punch something. “Besides, we’ve got a whole busload of superheroes to watch out for everyone. She’ll be perfectly safe.”

“You shouldn’t have brought her here,” Kara says through gritted teeth. “Not without telling me first.”

“I thought you’d be happy!” Barry looks confused, trying to connect the dots when Kara hasn’t given him all of them. “Don’t you know each other? You’ve talked about her before. Like, a lot,” he points out, not noticing how Kara flinches. It isn’t his fault. Barry doesn’t know who Lena is, who she _was_ to Kara. No one does on this Earth. She knows she’s acting erratically, knows she’s making a scene, but she can’t let it go, not when the Anti-Monitor seems ten times scarier if it’s Lena standing in his line of fire.

Then Kara hears a familiar laugh and she turns towards the source automatically, hoping against hope for even a hint of mercy, but Lena is all spite and seething indignation and none of the warmth she usually exudes around Kara. She looks Kara up and down just once, her lips thinning before she turns away, discarding her like an old newspaper. It’s hard to not get sucked back into the last time Lena looked at her like that, in her office when they had their fight, and Kara crosses her arms tightly across her chest, trying to protect herself from whatever Lena is preparing to throw her way.

(It shouldn’t be like this, she keeps thinking. It shouldn’t be like this, it shouldn’t be like this, it shouldn’t be like this.)

“It’s okay,” Lena says to Barry, and Kara tries to ignore the way her heart stutters just at hearing Lena’s voice again, even as the other woman is ignoring her. “I’ll stay as long as you need me to. Miss Danvers knows full well she doesn’t get to tell me what’s right and what’s wrong. ”

“Sure,” Barry says, giving a cautious thumbs up as he takes in the way Kara’s face has turned gray. “Whatever works for you two.”

“One more thing, Mr. Allen, before we get started here,” Lena adds, looking somehow angrier. “If I were you, I’d make sure that you know exactly who you’re trusting with your life. Take it from me— not everyone in this room is as brave or as good as they want you to believe.”

She glides effortlessly away and begins to set up shop across the room, while Kara just deflates. Her heart twists too tightly in a way it hasn’t for a long time, but it’s still bruising all the same. She has to get out of this room, where the lights are too bright and the murmurings of her friends are deafening in her ears and she can hear Lena’s heartbeat pound steadily. Calmly, as if seeing Kara again means nothing to her, even if she’s been missing for days. As if unpacking her briefcase and introducing herself to Cisco and Caitlin is a more pressing matter than recognizing that this is the first time they have been in the same room in _weeks._

Kara wants very badly to have a second chance. To do what Barry did, and go back just far enough in time where she wouldn’t have waited so long to tell her. At the very least, she wants another shot to be able to say the things she should have been saying all along. 

(Like revealing the last secret she has left. Telling Lena that there was a reason that she was so scared to tell her the truth, because she was the one person she couldn’t bear to lose. Because Kara loves her, with an intensity that was too much for even Supergirl to reckon with.)

… 

Kara leaves the room as Lena purposefully angles her chair away from her, cutting herself off from view. She talks easily with the other scientists. It makes her wish that Lena had tagged along with her to these interdimensional adventures sooner. Kara knows her friends will love her— Lena is as charming as she is intelligent, and deep down, she also knows that Barry’s made the right call. They need her here, especially with the rumors of an invincible, unbeatable being in league with whatever other bad guys they were going to have to deal with. She would have made the same decision.

It doesn’t make it hurt any less.

She allows herself a few minutes to mope by herself. She’ll set a timer if she has to; anything to give herself just one moment to wallow in the misery that Lena brought connected to her hip. Eventually, she’ll have to go back with her head held high, her hands on her hips, and an infectious, hopeful smile on her face, but it feels impossible now. Her lips feel numb, and Kara realizes that it’s been a while since she smiled like she’s supposed to.

She’s paced around the Particle Accelerator two and a half times before someone clears their throat and pulls her out of her spiral into older, painful memories.

“You won’t see anything new the third time around, you know,” Sara Lance says, leaning against a holding wall and leveling a gaze at Kara that makes her wonder how long she’s been watching her. 

Out of all the people Kara’s met on her interdimensional field trips, Sara Lance has caught her off guard the most. Maybe it’s because she’s slept with her sister— a detail that Kara would very much like scrubbed out of her memory, thank you very much— or maybe it’s because Kara’s a little bit scared of her. Sara Lance is cool, and confident, and charming enough to endear anyone to herself and her ragtag group of teammates, but dangerous enough to take out anyone who gets in the way. And yeah, Kara is very much assassin-proof, but that isn’t where it ends with Sara.

Sara can read people like an open book. It’s how she’s survived so long, being able to guess what people are really thinking about, to use that and control what’s happening. Nowadays, she doesn’t need the ultra-vigilance and cutting manipulation now that she’s got people she can trust, but it doesn’t mean she can’t use those instincts if she wants to. Right now, Kara’s pretty sure that she’s the main event. A practice dummy of sorts, for Sara to see if she’s still got it. 

Perhaps most importantly in this situation, Sara also has a habit of meddling. Usually with good intentions, but still. No matter how fond Kara is of her, she doesn’t want any part of what Sara’s planning. 

“Sara. I didn’t see you there,” she settles on, warm, but with just enough professionalism in her tone that the message should be clear. No, Kara doesn’t want to talk about it, and yes, she’s totally fine.

(Completely fine, even though her mind is seemingly replaying the way Lena’s eyes burned as Kara suggested she go back home over and over. It’s superimposing itself over happier memories, and Kara needs it to stop before she loses what good parts she’s got left of Lena’s.)

Of course, just because Kara made herself clear doesn’t mean that Sara Lance won’t ignore the warning signs all the same.

“Any news?” Kara asks, trying once more to keep this impending chat on the mission at hand. It shouldn’t be this difficult— the world is ending, after all, and Kara would very much like to stop being more concerned with the whispers surrounding her and the woman Barry’s just brought to help than she is with stopping billions of people from dying.

“Plenty. Apparently, the sky is turning green below the Equator, and there’s a blizzard in the Sahara, so.”

“Anything I can do?” Kara asks, hoping against hope that Sara’s just offered her an escape route from this increasingly stifling room.

“The Geek Squad has got it handled, don’t worry. Especially with this new addition of yours.” She smirks, and the trouble flares up in her eyes. “You know,” she says, “she’s pretty hot. Any chance you could give me her number?”

Kara knows it’s bait, and poorly constructed at that— Sara has a girlfriend, after all, and Kara doubts Ava would be cool with Sara hopping off to another earth to wine and dine with a different girl— but she falls for it anyway, hook line and sinker. Her shoulders stiffen, and Kara can feel jealousy making itself known, crawling its way up her chest. It leaves a bitter taste in her mouth, and she stops her pacing long enough to stare at Sara long and hard.

She bites her tongue before she can say anything more incriminating than the glare she’s shooting at Sara, which is more than enough for the captain to get the message loud and clear.

“Easy there,” Sara says, holding up her hands as if surrendering. “I’m just teasing. I am officially off the market.” For the first time, Kara notices the simple band around Sara’s ring finger, sparkling even in the dull lighting of the labs. 

(She looks happy. Kara wishes that seeing that ring didn’t make her want to cry.)

“Congratulations,” she manages, able to just barely sound genuine and not miserable. “I’m sorry all this has such awful timing.”

Sara shrugs, a small smile growing on her face despite it all. “I’m the captain of a team of time-travelers. Trust me, the timing was never going to be perfect.”

“I guess you’re right,” Kara says, actually mustering up a smile this time. She pulls Sara in for a quick hug, because even if she can’t act like the hero she’s supposed to be right now, she can still show her friend that she cares. “I’m happy for you. Just be careful, alright? Tell Ava that too.”

“I will.” Sara takes a deep breath, looking at the scuffed lines on the floor. “It’s terrifying, you know. The Anti-Monitor. Whatever’s about to go down. The fact that Ava’s gonna be out there, doing her own thing, and that there’s not a damn thing I can do to protect her from something like this.”

“Don’t sell yourself short. You’re the White Canary,” Kara says, trying for a smile but falling short when another alarm rings somewhere inside the labs. Something is coming, and Kara can feel it as tangibly as the heat picking up in the air. “I know you’ve made it out of worse scrapes than this before.”

“I have a knack for surviving,” Sara agrees, shrugging. “But this feels different, doesn’t it? Bigger. Like everything is about to change, and for good.” 

“Yeah. Yeah, it does.”

“I’m not afraid of dying,” Sara says, and Kara knows she feels the same, knows that she carries the same steel in herself that is in Sara’s voice. If it meant keeping the people in this building safe, Kara would give herself up in a heartbeat. “I’ve done it before, and I’m ready to do it again. I’m about as useful here as a wet mop, but I’m fighting all the same. For Ava, and my team.”

The room feels different now, and Kara reaches out a hand to squeeze Sara’s shoulder, if only to let her know that she’s prepared to do the same. It had been unspoken, these last few days, the fact that whatever was coming was very real and very likely to come with casualties. It was the people like Sara, and Alex, and Rao, like _Lena_ that Kara was so scared of losing. 

Kara doesn’t want any more loss branded against her ribs. She doesn’t want any more names to mourn.

“They’re who I’m scared for,” Sara admits, reading Kara’s mind. “Too many people have died on my watch. Snart, and Stein, and Rip.” Sara’s voice grows tight, and Kara doesn’t let go of her shoulder. “My sister, Laurel. It’s times like these where I wish I could talk to her, just one more time. Just to hear her voice, and tell her what I realize now that she’s gone.”

Kara imagines Alex, bloody and still on the battlefield with glassy eyes. She imagines returning home to a couch that would always have an empty spot. Or J’onn, and Nia, and Brainy, and Kelly, dead and gone, with only Kara left to lower them into the earth. Lena, one hand clutched over a gaping wound she knows is fatal, and the other reaches out for Kara, seconds too late to protect her but there to witness every agonizing detail. What if she couldn’t save them? What would it be like to lose everything for a second time? It’s so easy, now, to remember her own loss, her own pain, and look at Sara in somber understanding.

“I know the feeling,” she gets out, and Sara lets out a wet chuckle. It sounds one part sad and the other part exasperated.

“Then stop moping and go tell that girl how you feel.”

“What are you talking about?” Kara asks, attempting to wildly backtrack. Sara has trapped her without her knowing it, and now she remembers why she was so reluctant to talk to the other woman in the first place.

“Come on, Kara. Don’t play dumb.” Sara crosses her arms, some mirth returning to her eyes. “Mick thinks there’s something going on between you two, and he writes romance novels in his free time. If that’s not proof, I don’t know what is.”

“It- It’s not like that. Between us.” Kara’s words come out stilted and she knows that her ears are tipped pink. She can’t just bend to Sara’s will. But Sara is unmoving, looking at Kara stutter impatiently, and Kara is _so_ tired of saying that. She is sick of denying the truth behind her feelings to everyone, for years and years. Just like that, Kara caves. “Well. I don’t know, actually. Even if it was, I don’t need the extra distraction when we’ve got the universe to save.”

“And you’re not distracted right now?” Sara points out. Kara can feel her palms getting sweaty. She won’t admit it out loud yet. She can’t deal with the can of worms that is her being in love with Lena when the entire multiverse is falling apart. It isn’t fair to her, or to Lena, or to the people here who are counting on Supergirl to be at her prime.

“There isn’t time for that, and even if there was, I…” she sighs. “I messed up. She hates me. It’s too late to change what happened.”

Sara doesn’t press, doesn’t continue to push even though one more nudge would send Kara hurtling over the edge into reckoning fully with her feelings. She just acts as if she already knows the truth, which as much as Kara would like to deny it, she does.

“You believe in hope, don’t you?” she asks, and Kara nods. Sara gives her a supportive smile that’s maybe a little sad, too. “Then you of all people should know that it’s never too late to make amends. You still have time, Kara. Use it while you can. If not for yourself, then for the people like me who missed their chance.”

Kara takes a deep breath, looking at Sara Lance with what felt like brand new eyes. She’d heard the stories, knew what Sara had been through, the things she’d done to survive, the people who’d died along the way. But never before has Kara seen so much of herself in the other woman.

“When did you get so good with words?” she asks, hiding the newfound tightness in her throat with a laugh.

Sara winks and it’s like a switch is flipped. She’s back to normal, still commanding the room with a debonair style. “We visited F. Scott Fitzgerald a few months back when he was having some trouble with sirens. Maybe the guy rubbed off on me.”

“Thanks for the pep talk.”

“Of course, Kara. You looked like you needed a friend.” Sara pats her on the shoulder before spinning and walking away. “Besides,” Kara hears her call out, her voice echoing down the hall, “Who would I be if I didn’t involve myself with the love lives of the famous Danvers Sisters?” 

Imagery that she definitely did not want to think about is conjured in front of her eyes. At Kara’s resulting groan, Sara laughs, and despite the very real fears that are weighing heavy on her shoulders, Kara feels light. Maybe Sara Lance couldn’t fly, and maybe she wasn’t invulnerable, but in the eye of a hurricane, Kara wouldn’t ask for anyone else on her side.

(No matter how painful it might be, Sara had a point about Lena. Kara wouldn’t be much deserving of the symbol on her chest if she couldn’t even believe in herself. Maybe, it’s finally time to take a leap of faith for herself.)

… 

Kara starts her return to the control room with a fire that hasn’t made a home in her for a very long time. She pumps herself up as she stalks back through the winding halls, feeling like her feet might just break through the concrete of the floor. 

Lena deserves the truth. The whole truth, and who would Kara be if she was still too cowardly to give it to her? And sure, they’re kinda in the middle of something important right now, but if the end was nigh, then Kara needed to say this. She needed to be completely honest with herself and with the woman she had hurt so deeply. If this truly was the final nail in their relationship, then maybe Kara would sleep a little better at night knowing that she wasn’t a liar. And maybe Lena would find peace in the fact that she had done it all out of love, not hate.

She rounds the corner, already taking in a deep breath, but pauses when she sees the room. Everyone is staring at her—not out of salaciousness or a guilty sense of curiosity, but with absolute, awful attention. Like they _know_ something that she doesn’t. Something’s wrong. Something terrible has happened, because no one ever looks at Kara the way the other heroes are unless there is bad news involved. From the way even Lena is riveted on her face, the entire science division eerily still despite the constant chaos that normally surrounds them, Kara doesn’t think that bad news can describe whatever’s coming.

Alex steps forwards, like she always does when Kara’s involved. But there’s no sense of comfort to be found in her sister’s eyes, no way for Kara to ground herself. Alex looks like she’s grieving. Everything about her is too intense, too stiff; her back is ramrod straight, and her expression is stony. 

The scariest part, what really tips Kara off, is that Alex won’t meet her eyes.

“We’ve just received an update from the other Earths we’ve been monitoring,” she says, and her expression twists into something Kara knows she’s seen on Alex’s face before, but Kara can’t quite place it. “We- we thought the Anti-Matter wave was being focused on this earth first, which is why we were all gathered here together.” Alex swallows harshly, and everything clicks for Kara. It’s grief, that was shining out through the cracks in her sister’s face. “We were wrong,” she gets out before her lip starts to tremble, and Kara feels the weight of what is being implied hit her in the stomach.

Kara staggers away from her sister, unable to face the shattered look in her eyes, unwilling to see her phone and realize that Alex has called Kelly, J’onn, Eliza, and Brainy all half a dozen times. None of the calls were answered. “Earth-38?” she asks, only to be met with brutal, affirming silence. “Our world, the people… they’re just gone?”

She turns to Barry, who has an arm around Iris as if he’s the one who needs comforting, then to the others, waiting, watching a tragedy unfold before their eyes. She can feel old scars break open as new ones are being slashed across her back. But there’s always a glimpse of hope, isn’t there? She just needs someone to tell her that she’s wrong, that there’s still a chance that what she said isn’t true.

“Someone answer me!” she gasps out. She doesn’t want the truth, not really, so when Oliver squares his shoulders and steps in front of Barry with the softest look he can muster, Kara sinks to her knees and yells. Her fists slam towards the floor, carving out chunks of concrete as if it were butter. Narrow, fine cracks and fissures make spiderwebs of the glossy surface and move outwards to the others; the building itself seems to resettle in her wake, but Kara doesn’t notice.

She’d thought she’d already lost everything anyone could ever lose. How could it get worse? But this pain cutting its way through her heart? It feels infinite, and uncaring of what she’s gone through before. There is nothing gentle about this.

Kara never thought that she’d have to survive losing another home. Never imagined that another world would disappear before her eyes. Losing Krypton was… unbearable, and at times, unfathomable. That lack of full understanding was a small mercy for Kara—as young as she was when she fled, she couldn't have possibly understood just how heavy of a blow it was. Millions died. An entire culture was wiped from the stars, remaining only in the reflection of her eyes, but she didn’t shoulder that burden until she was much, much older. For Kara, her family was her world, so losing Krypton had revolved around her own grief.

The difference with Earth isn’t that Kara had refused to think about the possibility of its destruction. A girl from a dead planet never forgets that kind of devastation, and doesn’t scoff at its likelihood. Ignoring the truth was what had caused her to lose Krypton, so no, Kara was never blind to the thought. It was the first thing she thought about in the mornings, and the last thing before she took off her cape in the night.

No, the difference here is that Kara has always thought she’d be dead before having to bear witness to something akin to Krypton’s death ever again. She had hoped for it. Because it didn’t seem natural that she would still be breathing and just allow another home to be taken from her. If Supergirl, the champion of the people was still alive, then nothing should’ve ever happened to Earth-38. That was the vow that she’d made to herself, after all. Protect your new home, save it because you are the only one who can. Don’t let any other little girls lose everything the way you did, not while you have your life to give.

If she’d died defending her earth, if she’d given every last ounce of herself and her power, maybe Kara would have forgiven herself for its loss now. Maybe she’d finally be at peace with her failures before if she’d been allowed to give her life to the ones she loved. But here she is, healthy and idle, having unwittingly stood by and let another world burn, just like the Kryptonian ancestors that she’d told herself she’d never become.

(It would have been an honor to sacrifice herself. But where is the honor in surviving again? What is her endless survival for, if not to serve as a reminder that she wasn’t good enough, wasn’t strong enough, couldn’t be the hero she’d promised she could be? 

She didn’t want to keep on surviving when everything around her died. She was so tired of it. The pain. The grief. The failure. Always, always, always being the only one left standing.)

“And Argo? Kal-El, and Lois, and Jon?” she chokes out through shaking breaths, still asking questions as if she doesn’t already know the answers. Begging for mercy, perhaps, some respite from this. “What about my mom?”

“I’m… so sorry, Kara. There’s been no response from anyone.” Oliver says, keeping his distance. It’s for good reason, probably, because Kara doesn’t know what she’s capable of doing now. In perhaps the cruelest twist of all, the one remaining piece of her old home is wiped away from existence right alongside her new one. All while Kara is once again marooned, trapped somewhere in the middle. And, now that she thinks about it, she really is the Last Kryptonian.

It is a spectacle, to watch Supergirl truly grieve. She’s gotten so good at it over the years that it was normally unremarkable. Easy. Unconcerning. Able to be ignored, able to be assumed that Kara would pull through, because that’s what she always does. But she can’t brush off loss of this magnitude, can’t put on a stoic mask and just carry on, can’t be a perfect, flawless statue this time. The others aren’t sure what to make of it; not even Alex is, hovering just behind the crowd instead of rushing towards her sister like normal.

(Alex probably hates her for it, for getting them wrapped up in this when they could have been trying to save their own family, their own earth. Instead, she chased after Kara like normal, and had to lose everything as a result. All because Kara was too preoccupied with finding an escape from her own problems, forsaking her own earth along the way.)

“It wasn’t supposed to be like this,” Barry says between the hitched sobs coming from the middle of the room. He has the nerve to act angry when it’s his world that’s still standing, when he has his family and friends standing all around him. Kara didn’t get a chance to pick and choose who to save, who to gather in this one place deemed exempt from the death and destruction of the rest of the multiverse. She’d almost sent Alex and Lena back there, for Rao’s sake. She almost sent them back to die. “The Monitor told us our final test would be here.”

“This wasn’t part of our bargain,” Oliver mutters, and Kara’s head snaps up at that.

She’s in front of Oliver in the blink of an eye, not missing the way that everyone else scrambles back. Maybe none of them were ready to see a grieving Kryptonian, and they certainly aren’t ready to see an angry one. Her potential is fully realized to terrifying results, but Kara doesn’t care for the palpable fear in the room. She is far more interested in learning more about whatever Oliver had hoped to keep under wraps.

“What bargain?” she asks through gritted teeth. Oliver, despite being someone so talented, so insistent upon keeping everyone else in the dark, understands the message. 

He tells them everything.

Later, when Barry and Oliver are attacking each other with hushed tones and the barbed, angry insults of two people with too much history between the two of them, Kara makes a decision. She stays put, quiet as always, content to let the two boys have it out while she thinks. These little get-togethers that they’ve had have never been about her. She’s background noise, usually, a buffer for when things between them get too heated, or more times than not, a failsafe. One last card to play to trump whatever threat Barry and Oliver acted so tortured about. There hasn’t been a situation that Kara hasn’t been able to rescue them from. Until now. She played by their rules, and had never complained.

But then again, if Oliver can bend the rules, Kara will just make her own.

“Mar Novu,” she says, as if she’s testing it out on her tongue. No one’s paying attention to her yet, which means no one can talk her out of this. Or, almost no one. 

Alex— and more jarringly, Lena— haven’t taken their eyes off of her since Alex delivered the news. If Lena is willing to forego her decision to pretend like Kara doesn’t exist, then Kara must be acting in a way that is forcing Lena to pay attention. With what she’s preparing to do on her mind, that won’t do at all.

Her sister must realize that something’s up, or maybe just needs someone to hold onto, because she stands up from the back corner of the room she’d isolated herself in, and begins picking her way through the crowd towards her.

But then Sara Lance comes out of nowhere and captures Alex’s wrist, looking at her with big, somber eyes. “I’m so sorry, Alex,” Sara says, well-intentioned, and Kara uses her display of compassion as a distraction. Because if her sister reaches her, holds her hand, and wraps her up in a hug that reminds them both how much they just lost, Kara won’t have the heart to do what she needs to.

“Mar Novu,” she says, not needing to raise her voice. He will hear her, and he will listen. “I need to speak with you.”

Kara isn’t kept waiting long. She stands as the power dies, the lights flickering off and the humming of STAR Labs ceases. The other conversations stop abruptly, and all eyes go back to where Supergirl is now, standing face to face with a hulking figure that has appeared out of nowhere.

Weapons are drawn. Alex tries to put herself in front of Kara, but herself and the Monitor are standing too close for it. Those who haven’t seen him in person are left staring, studying this strange man and trying to understand what makes him so powerful. He doesn’t look it right now— his cape is disheveled, his steps are heavy, and his eyes are dull with something that not even Kara can recognize. Then she remembers the last time that they crossed paths, when the Monitor told them that he would always be watching. It seemed that he had to bear witness to all of the deaths they’ve been mourning. Perhaps even more.

“Kara Zor-El,” he booms, his voice betraying none of the weakness she can see in his face. “You have summoned me away from events crucial to this crisis. For the sake of the multiverse, I hope this is important.”

There he is acting like a god when the truth lies in the evidence of a burning, devastated universe. When they’d last met, Kara didn’t like the Monitor, but she’d at least held respect for the being. He seemed powerful and capable of nearly anything, and claimed, at least, to be on the side of the righteous. Yet here they are amidst the ruins of their massive, horrible failure, and Kara feels her fury come back. This being may be righteous, perhaps, but he is no god.

She barely feels herself punch him, sees the aftershocks more than the actual attack. Everyone else gasps, leaps out of the way as his body goes airborne, sliding hard into one of the science desks. The glass shatters, falling like a curtain over his slumped body. Kara hadn’t expected it to work, if she’s being honest. When they’d fought last year, the Monitor was untouchable, but something is different now. He’s weaker, maybe, more vulnerable. And yet, with the way Mar Novu touches his swollen lip and marvels at the blood on his fingertips, Kara gets the unnerving feeling that she’s the one who’s changed. 

“They’re gone. They’re dead, and all because we failed to protect them.” Kara can feel her eyes start to heat up, feels her rage manifest itself in dangerous ways, and closes them abruptly. She can’t afford to lose complete control when there are so many people around. “All because _you_ , for all the power and wisdom that you claim to have, didn’t warn us. You didn’t even give us a chance to try!”

He glances up at her with genuine surprise, and something more, still examining his own spilled blood. “Perhaps I underestimated your potential the last time our paths crossed.” He gets back to his feet, and Kara recognizes what that something more is— the Monitor is impressed. “I am sorry about your earth, and the other earths that have been lost. I am afraid that in the grand scheme of this conflict, casualties were… expected.”

Kara scoffs, dismayed at the callous dismissal of so much death. She understands that this fight that they’re in is really been a war, one that the Monitor has been fighting for millennia, but Kara refuses to tolerate anyone who refers to the loss of her home as part of the plan, a strategic loss. Whether or not this is a war, it doesn’t matter— Kara will not play the part of the loyal soldier, especially if this is the price.

“You chose the wrong Earth to be expendable,” she growls, getting back in his face. Mar Novu, almighty and all-powerful, takes a step back. “And now, you’re going to bring them back. All of them.”

The Monitor shakes his head. “Impossible. It would tip the cosmic scales in a way that could prove to be catastrophic. I don’t change fates, Kara Zor-El.”

“But you have before, haven’t you?” A ripple moves through the room at what she’s saying. Oliver clears his throat, trying to interject, but Kara cuts him off with one shake of her head. “You meddled with my life and Barry’s, altered our destinies just to bargain with Oliver. Whether or not you _want_ to doesn’t matter. You are capable.”

“What, exactly, are you implying?” Mar Novu asks, but Kara can see his eyes; they both know what Kara has planned. He must know. He studied them all, after all, and made sure that each of them was worthy to face this threat. The Monitor has likely always known what Kara’s wanted this entire time.

“I want to make a deal of my own, Mar Novu.” She glances around the room and sees the varied reactions, from Barry’s slow realization to Oliver’s barely concealed anger. Alex is looking at her with unbridled panic, and Lena? Lena’s staring directly into her eyes, exposed and vulnerable in a way that Kara hasn’t seen since before her betrayal. She stares back for a moment, nearly cut down by the strength of it, before focusing on the task at hand. “You will listen to my demands. Unless you want Supergirl out of this war.”

A strange look overtakes the Monitor’s face as he tilts his head. The side of his mouth quirks up until it grows until a full smile. It isn’t kind, or benevolent— more satisfied, a creature baring its teeth. She’s reminded of Lena, in a way, when she moves her last pawn into place. Maybe this has been part of the plan all along.

Kara hopes she isn’t making a mistake. 

“Kara Zor-El. Abandoned; lost to space. Marooned on an alien planet by parents who you no longer recognize. I know that you’re lonely. That you wonder why it was you who survived, out of everyone that you loved. The last of your kind, and yet you care so deeply about the lives of strangers— certainly more than you do about your own. Sacrifice is all you’ve ever known. Is that why you crave it so?” The Monitor steps to the side, and a portal comes to life next to them. Through its swirling, distorted entrance, Kara can see more stars than she’s ever been able to on Earth. It reminds her of her flight from Krypton. “I have been waiting for you and this… desire for a very long time. Come with me, and I will reveal the price of what you seek— and your true role in all of this. Let me show you what your life can become. What it can be given for.”

(The things that the Monitor is saying are things that she never wanted exposed to others, things that she only let herself think about at her lowest points. It’s a tactic, somehow; the Monitor is trying to manipulate her, but Kara keeps her head high and refuses to flinch. She won’t let Mar Novu uncover a weakness in front of everyone, even if he seems to have already peered inside her soul.) 

There is a commotion behind her; furious, Oliver charges forwards. “What about our deal? We agreed that they would be protected!” He turns to her then, his anger turning meek. “Kara, don’t listen to him. He gets in your head. We can figure out something else together.”

“I’m afraid Mr. Queen, that our agreement is no longer of any importance.” Mar Novu raises his hand and the Green Arrow is flung backwards, landing at Barry’s feet, who seems to know better than to attack. He shakes his head at Kara though, in a silent plea. She looks away, unable to bear the emotion in his eyes. The Monitor extends his hand, ushering her forwards towards the portal, but she hesitates for just a moment longer. 

“Kara?” Alex pleads. “Kara, please.” It’s a low keening cry, pouring out from her sister, that Kara wants nothing more than to comfort. She should say something to Alex— apologize, at the very least, for what she’s about to do. Say sorry for the fact that Kara let it come to this in the first place, so desperate to save their home that she ran away from.

But Kara knows that she can’t go up to Alex now or else she won’t end up making a deal at all. Her sister has always had a way of making Kara feel forgiven, even if she can’t forgive herself.

“I’ll be right back,” she says instead, to Alex before anyone else. “I’ll fix this. I promise.” There’s a pulling in her gut, a feeling that whatever she says to Alex now will have to matter. Kara smiles at her one last time. “I love you so much.”

Alex just stares at her, hiding her shaking hands by clasping them tightly behind her back. A little piece of Kara’s heart breaks at the blindsided, upset look in her eyes, but she turns away anyway. Mar Novu leads the way through, and Kara follows dutifully behind. Somewhere, Lena lets out a gasp; Kara can hear her fingers slam against a table for support. But by the time she thinks about turning around and taking one last glance, it’s too late.

Kara isn’t on any Earth anymore. But because fate seems to enjoy mocking her, another Luthor is there too. A Luthor that Kara had believed she’d never have to see again.

…

There’s a rule that Kara has about killing, but the violence that erupts in her chest at seeing Lex Luthor again is the closest she’s ever come to ignoring it.

He’s at a large wooden table, his feet propped up on a pile of books. There’s a chess board in front of him, and filled notebooks spread out everywhere else, and if Kara closes her eyes, she can imagine a roaring fire crackling behind him. His shoes are finely polished, his suit well-tailored— and for someone who is supposed to be dead, Lex looks impeccably and undeniably alive.

“You!” Seething, Kara shrugs off the hand that the Monitor tried to wrap around her arm and marches up to Lena’s brother. “You ruined _everything._ ”

Lex seems amused by her antics, setting down the chess rook that he’d been fiddling with and reclining even further in his chair. He acts like a king on his throne, completely unbothered by the threat to his safety even as Kara stalks closer, her eyes glowing. Not even she knows what she’s capable of at this moment— this is the man who orchestrated the collapse of her life these past few months, who caused her and his sister so much pain, who killed so many people, destroyed so much. Who, somehow, is alive, when so many innocents are dead. 

It isn’t fair, and Kara intends to right this wrong by whatever she deems necessary.

“Lena killed you,” she gasps out, and the reminder of that breaks her heart even more. Her best friend, who has tried all her life to be good and righteous and distance herself from her family’s shadow, had been so desperate to stop Lex from hurting anyone else that she could see no other way but to kill him herself, and here he was standing despite it all. 

“Yeah, well,” Lex responds, standing and straightening his tie, “It didn’t stick. My sister has always had the unfortunate habit of having her ideas blow up in her face. The best laid plans and all that jazz.”

“You don’t know anything about her,” Kara says, reaching him at last and grabbing him by the lapels of his coat. She can feel all of her pent up emotions regarding Lena and Lex and _everything_ else that she’s been trying to deal with come boiling to the surface. It would be so easy to kill him now. 

“Oh?” Lex laughs, swinging his feet mid-air. It is a juvenile, gleeful display, and reminds Kara of a bully on a playground. “And how is my dear sister, seeing as you two are so close? Would she still do anything for Kara Danvers? Such trust issues, Lena has. I was so happy to learn that she had as true of a friend as you by her side.”

“You- you did this to her, you poisonous snake!”

Lex ignores her, his grin growing tenfold as Kara tightens her grip enough that the fabric tears. Somewhere in the back of her head Kara knows that he’s egging her on; maybe he wants her to kill him, just so he can have the satisfaction of knowing that he was the one that drove a Super to go against everything that they stood for. But she can’t think logically now, not when the person she hates most in the world is taking such pleasure in dredging up terrible memories. She’s given it away— Lena is her weak spot, and Lex knows exactly how to abuse it.

“Now, there was a friendship for the ages! A Luthor and a Super, both foolish enough to think that things would be different. You should’ve seen the look on her face when I told her that her beloved Kara Danvers had been lying the entire time. You managed to do in a few years what I’ve been toiling away at for decades: breaking my poor sister’s heart. Tell me. Did it end as horribly as I’d imagined it?”

With those last snide remarks, Kara’s reached her breaking point. She raises her fist, feeling her bones crack with the force of it. Kara is going to do it— would have done it had Lex not been yanked forcibly out of her grip by Mar Novu, who places himself in the middle. “I can’t let you do that,” he says, remaining neutral. “Everyone has a part to play in what’s to come… even Lex Luthor.”

She forces her eyes away from Lex to glare at the Monitor. “You did this? You brought _him_ back, out of everyone that could have been spared?”

“His destiny was unfulfilled. Mr. Luthor still holds an important role if we are to succeed against my brother.”

The infuriating, antagonizing matter of Lex is cast aside for the moment as Mar Novu’s words sink in. Kara’s eyes widen, and even Lex looks interested. “Hold on. Your _brother_ is the cause of all this?”

The Monitor frowns in a rare display of emotion, displeased with Kara’s new line of questioning. “It is inconsequential, but yes. The Anti-Monitor and I share blood, which is why it is my responsibility to put a stop to this.”

“Sibling tension? I’ve been there,” Lex pipes up, injecting himself back into things. “Though my sister never had as impressive of aspirations as your brother does. Maybe that explains why I’ve always found her to be such pathetic competition.”

Kara does punch him this time, but unfortunately, only hard enough to break his nose. He stumbles away cursing, out of sight for the time being.

“Look, I don’t care about the fact that it’s your brother.” She lifts her hands to her hips, trying to tether herself to something familiar, an old motion of confidence amidst all of this uncertainty. “I followed you here because it’s the only option I have left to protect my earth. Now, show me what I came here for.”

“Very well. But first, I need your blessing.” The Monitor brings Lex back to where they stand. Kara takes an embarrassing amount of satisfaction from the swollen state of his nose, still bleeding profusely onto his face and undoubtedly expensive dress shirt. He scowls at her with purpling eyes, and Kara glares right back. “I assure you Kara Zor-El. We will not win this war without the help of both Luthors. I have foreseen it. Now, Lex Luthor will offer aid with or without your agreement, but the other heroes will more readily accept it if they know that you do as well. They trust your judgement more than anyone’s.”

Kara looks away, directing the heat in her eyes at the floor. She knows that the smart move is to allow Lex to help. It is in his best interests, after all, to prevent his own death, and Kara knows that there is no more powerful of a motivator for Lex Luthor than self-preservation. But to vouch for him? To put her trust, her word behind a man that she so vehemently despises? She knows what they’ll think of her— Supergirl, driven so wild by grief and rage that she’s seeking out the assistance of a monster. 

Lena will hate her even more if she learns that Kara wants her brother’s help when earlier, she was so reluctant to let Lena stay. It will be one more tear in the fragile fabric of their relationship that is already in tatters.

But if she doesn’t do this, she could end up losing Lena permanently, and Kara couldn’t live with herself if that happened because of a grudge.

“Fine,” she says at last, refusing to look anywhere near what she assumes is the very smug face of Lex Luthor. “Whatever it takes.”

“It is decided. Your time has come, Lex Luthor. Let me bring you to the others.” The portal appears once more, and the Monitor wraps a hand around Lex’s shirt and drags him forwards. “Kara Zor-El, you will stay here. There are things that you must witness before you are ready for this fight.”

With those parting words, Mar Novu steps through, leaving Lex to follow behind. But before he does, he turns back to face her, and something about the look in his eye makes Kara’s stomach drop. “Thank you Supergirl,” he says, winking, “For making what’s about to happen all the more satisfying for me. I’ll tell my sister you say hello.”

(It’s a vow that he’s making. To cause as much suffering as possible while she’s powerless to stop it. The thing that Kara’s scared about most is not the threat itself— that part is just tasteless, and even for Lex, a tad melodramatic. The thing that really scares her is that he might not just be threatening her; it is the sinking feeling in her chest that she doesn’t know who Lex is planning on hurting.)

He hops through the glowing exit before Kara’s eyes can heat up again, leaving her with an empty stage and heavy shoulders, more alone than ever before.

…

Kara is allowed to watch what unfolds, either as a courtesy offered to her or as one more test, to see if she can live with her decision after watching what it does to the people she loves. No matter the intentions behind the Monitor’s decision, Kara is grateful all the same, because at least she gets to see her friends, and gets the reassurance of knowing that they haven’t been wiped from existence as well. She wanders over to the scene on accident, really— the window, as she is choosing to call it, is one of the few things in this barren, empty space, and Kara needed something to occupy herself with. If she sits here and simply waits for Mar Novu to return, doubts and second guesses will creep into her mind.

Her decision has been made, and there’s no changing things now.

There are more people gathered at STAR Labs when the Monitor’s portal reopens; Kara wonders how long it has been since she stepped through herself. For a moment, she sees what she thinks is Clark, and her heart soars in a knee-jerk reaction— somehow, some way, maybe her cousin had managed to escape. They were survivors, after all, and having Kal-El there to help the others puts Kara at peace. But when she looks closer, her hope diminishes. That man isn’t her cousin… at least not _her_ Clark, from her earth. This man wears the house of El on his chest, and stands as proudly as her cousin does. His eyes hold the same gentle power as her own do, and Kara doesn’t need to meet him properly to know that this man is Kal-El. 

To say that she is surprised when she sees two more versions of her cousin come into view would be an understatement. Kara is nearly moved to tears, knowing that there is a Superman on other Earths— that Krypton continues to live on in the hearts of others. In all of their faces she can see the baby boy that Kara vowed to watch over. Perhaps on some of these worlds Kara actually fulfilled her promise— maybe somewhere, there exists a version of her that was never lost in the Phantom Zone. A boy and a girl sent off to preserve an entire planet’s story is a heavy burden, but at least now she knows that there are others. The weight seems a little less consuming.

Kara feels a little less alone now. 

Mar Novu moves into view, and Kara wrenches her thoughts away from what could have been. When Lex shows up, Kara fights the urge to look away. She watches the exact moment that the others register his presence, and Kara starts to wonder if maybe this is something she doesn’t deserve to watch.

Her sister acts first in the stunned silence, as she has been trained to do. Alex takes in everything about Lex, from his bloody nose and soiled shirt to the haughty, proud smirk on his face and comes to her own conclusions about what must have happened. 

“What’s all this?” Alex demands, her voice loud and unmistakably angry. Kara knows better, however; Alex is scared. The aggression and false bravado and the way that she’s clenching her jaw in that way means that Alex is alone and upset— about Earth 38, about her family, and most of all, about Kara. “Where’s my sister?” Turning to Lex, she tenses even more. “What did you do to her?”

The Monitor raises his hands in an attempt to make peace, but Lex ruins it as usual. “Oh, Director Danvers! Her and I were just talking.” He lowers his voice then theatrically, ensuring that his words still carry across the room. “You know, I’d be worried about her if I were you. She wasn’t very… stable. Seemed pretty torn up about all of those destroyed Earths— and you and I both know how much Kryptonians love being a good martyr.”

There is deafening silence as Alex jerks back, looking caught between ignoring Lex’s words and clinging to them. The other Supermen’s heads perk up at that last comment, but none of them hold the hate in their eyes that her cousin held for Lex. Kara hopes that these Kal-El’s were lucky enough to never have had to deal with Lex Luthor in the first place, but it seems impossible. Their families are destined to intertwine no matter the universe.

Off to the side, Kara hears glass shatter, and her heart drops when she realizes that the source of the wreckage is Lena, who has only just entered the main control room, too deep in conversation with Ray Palmer to notice anything amiss. But now she stands frozen in the doorway, her face turned deathly pale as if she’s seeing a ghost. Considering that it’s her brother risen from the grave, the reaction seems appropriate.

“ _No,_ ” she chokes out, a strangled sound escaping her lips once Lex finally glances over. When he sees his sister, a grin breaks out on his face, so wide that it must hurt with his broken nose, but Lex doesn’t seem to care. A look of recognition passes between the two Luthors; any disbelief that Lena could have had about this man actually being her brother must go away, because she lurches forward, grabbing onto an unsuspecting Caitlin to prevent herself from collapsing entirely. “You’re… you’re dead. I killed you.”

Kara has always thought of herself as good at understanding emotions. Before anything else— reading, writing, learning to speak Earth’s different languages and trying her hardest to fit in, Kara understood empathy. She was a daughter of suffering, after all; she could understand people’s pain and troubles even when they couldn’t yet understand it themselves. Emotions were a universal language on any planet.

Meeting Lena Luthor had been a challenge to that. Kara struggled at first to read someone like Lena, who had been raised all her life to control her emotions, and when she couldn’t, to conceal them all together. It was the Luthor way, Lillian had told her, and anyone who grows up in a house that is devoid of genuine feeling learns to adapt quickly. Kara has always found her and Lena similar in that way— each of them grew up being taught how to survive in this world, only while Eliza encouraged her to embrace whatever she was feeling, good or bad, Lena was taught to conquer it. To file it away somewhere, to either beat it into submission or ignore it before it became an issue. A weakness, a threat to the Luthor reputation.

After all these years later, however, Lena might be the person that Kara knows best, other than Alex. Which is why, when Lena finally learned the truth, it had hurt so much, because Kara knew there was no taking back the kind of pain that she had just caused her best friend. She knew what Lena looked like when her heart was broken, and she saw it play out in front of her own eyes, by her own hand.

What intuition that Kara possesses towards Lena’s emotional health doesn’t matter at this point— everyone in that room sees that whatever Lena is going through, it isn’t good, and it’s all her brother’s fault.

For his part in all this, Lex seems to be attempting to relish every last bit of pain, anger, and frustration that he can reap. He waves at Lena, still looking like she might be sick, and takes a deep breath, Whatever is coming next, Kara wishes that Lena won’t listen to it.

“I can promise you that I’m very much alive, Lena. You can’t keep a good man down for long.” Lena drifts closer as if drawn by a magnet, and Lex prepares for the kill. “I’ve missed you, actually! Can’t wait to catch up while we’re saving the world together. But, I’ve got to be honest— you look terrible. Don’t tell me you took that news I gave you badly?”

“I see that you’re still losing fights to Supers, Lex.” Out of the need to defend her sister and perhaps even Lena, Alex raises her own fist, preparing to follow in Kara’s footsteps, but the Monitor interferes once more. 

“He is here for a reason, Alex Danvers. I can assure you that he is as important to our success as your sister is, which is why she agreed to allow him to help.”

“ _Kara_ agreed to let this scumbag help?” Alex asks, incredulous. “No way.”

At nearly the same time that Alex speaks, Lena does too. “She wouldn’t. Ka- _Supergirl_ hates him, and for good reason,” she adds, shooting a glance over at Lex, “after everything you did.” 

Kara winces at the assuredness in Lena’s voice; the other woman won’t even say her name, but even after everything, at least part of Lena still trusts her, certainly enough to believe that Kara wouldn’t work with her brother. At least, not without being there to tell her in person. It makes Kara feel like a coward, hiding away and watching this new betrayal unfold somewhere safe and detached.

“Such firm assurance. I suppose it’s because you know Kara Danvers so well,” Lex drawls. Lena recoils away as if scalded. “Do you still believe that those years of deceit and duplicity count as a genuine relationship, or are you simply that lonely? Your denial is as powerful as ever..”

Lena keeps her chin up, done with acting rattled. Her voice takes on a cold, haughty tone, as if her brother isn’t there at all. “I know her well enough to know that Kara would never stoop so low as to reach you.”

“Unbelievable!” he crows, and Lex is really enjoying himself now. “You’re still defending her after everything! Don’t you see, Lena? She never cared about you beyond the potential of your last name! If I hadn’t interfered, Kara Danvers would have kept the truth from you for the rest of her worthless life.”

“That’s not true,” Alex argues, stepping up to bat for her absent sister. She looks at Lena, whose eyes are turning glassy. “Lena, that isn’t true. Kara was going to tell you. She agonized about it for years. It was _never_ because she didn’t care— it was because she cared too much.”

Lena doesn’t answer either of them. Her jaw stays set in a rigid line, and she turns back to the Monitor. “How can we believe anything that he says?”

“Consider who your brother is. This is his best chance at preserving his own life. You understand your brother best, Lena Luthor, even if you wish you didn’t. You know that he’s here to help.”

“Why can’t Kara tell us this herself? It’s been hours,” Alex says, staying by Lena’s side. _It’s been hours,_ Kara thinks, wondering about the things she’s missed. “She’s heard everything that you could possibly have to say.”

“Her journey is only just beginning, and it is essential that she is free of… distractions. I’m afraid you won’t be seeing your sister for a long time.”

Kara wants to lean forwards through the image, to disturb it enough that someone notices her presence. She should’ve talked to her sister before she went through with this, and hates seeing the panicked uncertainty buried underneath the rigid act that Alex is putting up. But she can’t take back the decision she made. For the time being, Alex must learn to carry on without her.

“Lex Luthor will assist you and the others in your efforts to weaken the Anti-Monitor before he attacks in person,” Mar Novu continues, maintaining eye contact with Lena, her hands still shaking. “Your brother has been learning about anti-matter and how to control it. If you give him access to your resources and your collaboration, we will succeed. _Supergirl_ will succeed.”

“And what exactly will that success look like?” Lena asks. The tremble in her voice denies her efforts to remain unaffected, and Alex reaches a hand out. Kara doubts that Lena can even feel the gentle pressure on her arm. “I am a businesswoman, and a scientist. Understanding the big picture impacts what risks I decide to take, and you won’t tell me anything. Not only have you resurrected my murderous, backstabbing brother and are giving him free reign, but because of you, our most powerful hero— the best chance we’ve got at surviving— is missing. I won’t listen to you when you won’t even tell us where Supergirl is.”

The Monitor remains passive, gazing down at Lena in a way that makes Kara queasy. It was the same way he looked at her before he brought her to wherever she is now, and Kara doesn’t want Lena to make a similar bargain. “I know why you struggle, Lena Luthor,” Mar Novu says. “Your little boxes haven’t been working for a long time now. Not since you met Kara Danvers. She lied, yes, and hurt you. But despite everything that you try to tell yourself, you still love her. She taught you how to believe in something other than yourself.” Lex scoffs behind her back. “If that is true, then you must trust in Kara Zor-El’s word alone, or else we are all doomed.”

Lena’s eyes flare, but Kara can see that something inside of her shifts, like there was something there that touched a nerve. A part of her hopes against hope— Mar Novu has never lied. Maybe, what he’s saying about Lena is the truth. Maybe Lena didn’t quite mean all of those terrible things she said to Kara in her office. Maybe she is just as desperate for things to be set right. Maybe the chasm between them isn’t as insurmountable as Kara believed it to be all these months.

(Maybe, Kara realizes with churning regret, this is something that she could have been fixing all this time. How cruel that she’s only realizing it now, blinded by the consequences of a choice that she has yet to make, but knows she will make all the same.) 

“Look at me, Lena,” Lex says, and defiant, Lena does. “No matter what I thought of you growing up, I never thought you to be delusional. You, choosing to stand by Kara Danvers? After everything? Don’t be a fool.”

He says it with such mockery in his voice that Kara balls up her fists, furious. In many ways, Lex is working against himself in this instance, toying with Lena, seeing if she’ll break and kill him once again. As twisted as it is, it actually makes sense. Lex Luthor is so narcissistic that he would rather lose everything— the world, his money, his own second chance at life— just to see the last Luthor turn resolutely away from the light. Against Kara. Lex would die a happy man knowing that he finally ruined Lena and destroyed everything that she thought she stood for.

It’s crueler than anything else he’s ever done.

But Lex, as smart as he is, never understood his little sister. He was too caught up in his self-assured vision of the world where everything was beneath him and everyone was either useful or useless, weak or strong to notice Lena, growing up alone and afraid but with enough good inside of her to save the entire world. Kara, in her own selfishness and terror about kryptonite, had forgotten Lena’s virtue too, but it has always been there, insignificant in Lex’s eyes but there all the same. It’s why she defeated him before, and why she defies him now.

“That’s where you’re wrong, Lex,” Lena says quietly. “Then again, you could never grasp what it means to love someone. I will _always_ believe in Kara, and if she needs us to work together, then I will do exactly that.” 

All satisfaction that had been in Lex’s eyes disappears all at once, and they take on the cold, dead appearance that had been immortalized by the press during his trial. Kara has never seen it in person— still hasn’t— but even removed from it all, the lack of emotion when he stares over at his sister chills Kara’s blood. She won’t be able to protect Lena from her brother now, and can't provide an invulnerable buffer between Lex’s violent expression of his hatred.

“Fine.” Lex’s voice is so devoid of _anything_ that even Lena has to stop herself from taking a step back. “You betray our family, go against me, and ruin everything that we’ve tried to build— all for _love._ That isn’t strength. It’ll be your downfall. I thought you were above such vulnerability, but maybe that lesson never sunk in. You’ll learn soon enough what happens when you care for someone too much.”

If she wasn’t sure before, Kara knows what Lex is after now. He wants to see his sister break, and now he has a way to do it.

(She hopes Lena will understand someday. That this will be worth it.)

Lena just swallows, narrowing her eyes at her brother before stepping to the side, allowing the other scientists to lead him away. The two Luthor siblings are united for the first time in decades, and no matter how good of a cause, Kara hates it. Lena doesn’t need this on her conscience, reckoning with her morality every time Lex appears. This had better work, because Kara’s not sure if she’ll be able to forgive herself for causing Lena needless pain if it doesn’t.

The hairs on her arms raise, and without looking, Kara knows that the Monitor has returned. She stays where she is, watching her sister stare hard at the spot where he just disappeared from, watches Iris shake her head and lean into Barry more fully. Everything is set into place now, her fate now decided. She can feel it.

“He’s going to kill me, isn’t he?” she asks, even if it isn’t really a question. She won’t glance over at Mar Novu. Whatever displeasure she can hold towards him, he is not uncaring. Everything that is happening weighs on his heart as it does hers. She won’t force him to carry the resignation on her face too.

She knows how heavy those sorts of things are.

“Lex Luthor made a bargain of his own. I’m sorry. If it’s any comfort, I can assure you that his side will be fulfilled.” The Monitor fiddles with one of his gauntlets. Kara has never seen him nervous before. “Will this… alter your actions?”

Kara stays silent for a moment, hesitating even if in her heart she already knows the answer. “No,” she says simply, and the Monitor lets out a breath. “It won’t.”

She turns back to the scene in STAR Labs and watches Lex with a lead heart. She should’ve seen it sooner, that it was her that he was after all along. Lex is nothing if not a man who holds a grudge, and her and Lena were the ones that had caused him to lose everything. Now that he’s back, Lex Luthor can’t resist a chance at revenge.

They’re in one of the labs now, maybe have been there for hours. Kara knows time works differently for her now. Alex trailed in not long after the others, still staring at Lex like she’s trying to decide the most painful way to kill him. Lex is the picture of snobbery and smugness, poking around his new base of operations with a sneering lip and all of the confidence in the world. He has never looked so much like Lillian Luthor before; she sees the resemblance clearly in his cold, pale eyes and the cutting upturn to his chin. He looks cruel— the kind that is languid and all the more potent in its assuredness, and Kara knows how much he will enjoy this.

His eyes glimmer as Lena’s do, but it’s not the same. There’s no warmth to be found in their shine— and if someone leaned in close enough to try and find some, Kara had no doubt it would be a trap, a monster waiting to strike.

He keeps glancing up at his sister, who rather admirably, is trying to focus on the task at hand, scanning the data that Lex had brought with him with a dubious frown. Lena is as far across the room as possible, and trying very hard to seem indifferent even if Kara can still see the way her hands shake. Lena’s afraid of him; really, truly terrified— of whatever is coming next, of the fact that she’s willingly working with her brother, and maybe even about Kara. She doesn’t know for sure, but Kara does know now is that forcing Lena to work Lex is maybe the worst thing she could ever ask of her. 

Of course, it’s just their luck that the fate of the universe depends on it.

“She’s on a suicide mission. You know that, don’t you?” Lex comments, and the silence in the room grows taut. “You see, I heard some things, when it was just me and them up there. I know what your darling Kara’s got planned. She isn’t going to live through the night, and you, Lena, are going to lead her to the slaughter.”

Even if she isn’t there, the blood drains from her face and she closes her eyes, unable to look at the scene in front of her for a few seconds. She knows what she’ll see: Alex, with fury and worry alike coloring her face, clenching her fists so hard that the knuckles pop in and out of place; Sara, leaning forwards from her perch in the corner, murder in her eyes. Barry, lifting his head up from where it had been buried in his hands, and Oliver’s eyes growing impossibly darker. She’ll see Lena swallow hard, keeping her jaw unmoving even as the words glance off like a physical blow.

He’s revealing information that Lena and the others did not know— that they _shouldn’t_ know. Kara doesn’t want anyone doing something stupid to try and save a life that’s already been given away. What she and Lex both know is that Lena is exactly the kind of person who would try. Kara would do anything just to get the chance to strangle this insolent, arrogant, bitter man, so angry at Lena that he’s risking his own life— all of their lives— just to see if he can make his sister break. Lena could abandon it all, forsake the universe to its doom, and Lex would want to see it just for his ego.

“Bullshit,” Alex mutters. By some miracle, she hasn’t launched herself at Lex yet, even as he delivers the worst kind of news with a sickly sweet grin. “You just need to feel like the smartest guy in the room, don’t you? Even if you have to lie to do it.”

“I hope you have a tombstone picked out, Agent Danvers,” Lex sneers, and even a comment as simple as that leaves Alex stunned. “That is, if there’s even enough of her to bury. This antimatter is nasty, painful stuff, and your sister is going to go a few rounds with a being that bleeds it.” He turns back to his sister and Kara feels anxiety pounding against her sternum. Lex seems the type to play with his prey before he kills it, and Kara hates that she can’t look away. “I wonder what type of eulogy Lena Luthor gives? I doubt it would be a sober one.”

Lena— Rao, loyal, decent, selfless Lena— is trying to hold it all together. She stares up at the ceiling for a moment before placing a hand on Alex’s hip, stopping her before she can reach for her holster. Lena plays peacemaker between them all even if the worst of Lex’s words are aimed at her, and Kara wonders how she could ever deserve such dedication.

“Kara will be fine. She always is,” Lena says, glancing at Alex. Her voice is unwavering, as if the strength behind her words will be enough to make them true. “Alex, don’t make her odds any worse, okay? She’ll come home. I’ll make sure she does.”

Supergirl looks away. She stares hard at the ground at wishes more than anything that Lena hadn’t said that. 

Lex’s eyes flash, and he straightens from where he’d been bending over examining lab equipment and the existing prototypes. He looks absolutely _enamored_ by Lena’s response, as if he couldn’t have dreamed of this going any better for him. Seeing as Lena had just made a gutting, impossible promise, Kara supposes that this is pretty ideal for the man trying to ruin her life.

“Oh? You will, won’t you,” he interjects, cutting in before Alex can even finish squeezing Lena’s shoulder in a much needed show of support. Her sister’s hand tightens instead, as the both of them turn, rigid. Kara recognizes the lilt in his voice for the jeering that it is, and Lena must too because she’s already doing her best to ignore his words. “Mom told me all about the lengths you’ve gone to protect the Kryptonian. Frankly, I didn’t believe her at first. I mean, letting your dear, beloved Jackie die just to save Supergirl? Seemed harsh, even for our family.”

That catches Lena’s attention. “Don’t you _dare_ talk about Jack,” she warns, seething, spitting anger replacing the forced calm she’d been trying to project. 

“Please, Lena. No need to get upset. I’m simply trying to understand your mindset after all these years apart. After all, I doubt that the Monitor wants me sharing this type of knowledge with someone… unpredictable.”

Lena gives up on trying to read over the notes Caitlin had passed her way and devotes her time instead to glare daggers at the back of her brother’s head. Lex hunches over once again, not even facing Lena— content to verbally torture Lena while working out the details of how he’s going to save the universe… and kill Supergirl. Kara can say many, many things about the deplorable nature of Lex Luthor, but she can’t criticize his ability to multitask. At least, even if it’s not for her sake, it is for the sake of others. 

“Right. Because _you_ understand best what makes a person rational or not.”

“I never said rational. I’m talking about predictability. And when it comes to Kara Danvers, you’re basically clockwork,” he lectures. Lex reaches for a stack of diagrams and rifles through them, crushing most of them up into a ball. Cisco Ramon makes an affronted noise somewhere in the back, and Lex tosses the pages into the garbage for good measure. “Say what you want about my obsession with Superman, but at least my actions followed logic.”

“You killed 32 people, Lex,” Lena scoffs. “And those are the ones you were convicted for. You turned the sun red, and sat back to watch the world burn. You’re insane. The world holds no admiration for you, no matter what you may think.”

“How does that saying go? Hatred is gained as much by good works as by evil. You and the others always confused the two, though I suppose it wouldn’t have mattered in the end.”

Lena gives her brother a look that is so deadpan that Kara would snort if not for the situation. “You know, Lex, only you would quote Machiavelli when you’re defending murder. At least pick someone less prosaic to model yourself after.”

Lex looks up, and this time he’s the one ready to snap. “When are you going to learn that I’m not the bad guy? I never expected the rest of the world to understand why I had to do the things I did, but you… you’re just like me, Lena. Especially now that you’ve seen firsthand the kind of pain that those aliens can bring.”

“You know what I think?” Lena says, nearly breathless with the anger that had shattered her poise. “I think you craved the attention. I think you couldn’t sleep at night knowing there are people out there who are braver, and stronger, and _better_ than you’ll ever be _,_ and to cope with that you pinned all of your insecurities on Superman.”

“Is that so?” Lex says, quieter than Kara has ever heard him and all the more terrifying for it. As vindicated as she feels from Lena finally getting to take her brother off his pedestal, she’s worried about its consequences. Lex is a proud man, and he holds a grudge against people who defy him— especially if it’s his sister.

But Lena isn’t done; she juts out her chin, gives her brother a brutally cloying smile that Kara knows she’s seen Lillian wear before, and goes in for the kill. “Maybe,” she says, “Superman didn’t think you were as great as you thought he was. Maybe, the great Lex Luthor couldn’t handle a little bit of rejection. That doesn’t seem very logical, now does it?”

Kara can’t imagine what it’s like to watch this take place in real time; her head is spinning as is, trying to wrap her head around a sibling relationship that is so different to her own. She’s never seen Lena this cruel before, not even to her. Even when she had every reason to, Lena had never torn into Kara the way she is tearing into Lex right now.

She’s always pictured a fight between Luthors to be one fought over chess, or during a dinner party. That was the way Lena had always made it sound; whatever her and Lex had to say to each other was usually hidden under layers upon layers of polite implications and calm, collected subtext. But this isn’t refined, nor is it controlled. This is Lena finally speaking her mind, and from the way his eyes bulge and a vein is popping out in his forehead, Lex isn’t used to it— and he may even be intimidated by it.

“You think you’re better than me, don’t you?” Lex asks sarcastically, but there’s a shake of rage to it, and Lena’s lips curl as if in victory. After years and years of torment, it’s Lena who is in control, not him.

“Oh, I know I am. All this time living in your damned shadow, and I finally realize that it’s you who’s not living up to their full potential. Not me.” It’s an echo of what Lena had said to Mercy, and just as it did with his most trusted partner, Lena’s words sting Lex. His face reddens, uncontrolled and sloppy and rising up even to his scalp, and the last time Kara saw him this angry, it was Kal-El putting him into handcuffs.

Lex’s voice raises, booming in the enclosed space of the lab. “I was ready to forget about what you did to me, if you’d show even an OUNCE of respect! I was willing to work with you— two Luthors, with the power to change the universe. We could’ve had everything! But not anymore, I realize now. I tried so hard, but you’re nothing like me. That makes you _worthless_.”

“I’m nothing like you, huh? That might be the nicest thing you could’ve said to me. I’m not the monster you wish I was, Lex, and I never will be. You’ve lost,” Lena says back, and Kara knows that this is a more definitive victory over Lex Luthor than any other. This is Lena freeing herself from the shackles of her brother’s legacy— not just stepping out of his shadow, but placing herself firmly into the light. Lex can’t reach her anymore, and he knows it. 

For someone like Lex, obsessed with attention and control above all else, it’s the ultimate defeat.

“You’re going to wish you never said that,” he says, sounding more dangerous and vengeful than ever before, and any sense of satisfaction that Kara is getting out of this is extinguished all at once. Lena seems to sense it too, because her face returns to stone and her shoulders rise up, like a boxer bringing up their guard.

While Lena’s beaten Lex at his own game, it doesn’t mean there aren’t other weaknesses that her brother can exploit. And Lex has an ace in his pocket that Kara knows will hit Lena where it hurts, because it’s about her. 

Even if they haven’t spoken in weeks, and even if she hates her, Kara knows that she is still a sore spot for Lena, and Lex has all of the means to punish her for it.

“You agreed to help,” Alex says in a misguided attempt to rescue Lena from the sudden venom injected in Lex’s voice. Now, he has the two most important people in Kara’s life in his sights; two birds, one stone. “You made a deal. There’s no backing out of it, and there’s no point in hurting anyone here because your feelings are hurt.”

“Oh, I have no intention of backing out. Not when the deal I made is so _sweet_ ,” Lex says. His anger abates, at least on a surface level, and his conceited nature returns. Lena huffs, annoyed, but she doesn’t turn away, still tense as if she realizes Lex is dangling a sword above her head.

“You made a deal?” she asks, a little too sharply, and Lex begins to grin, close to regaining control again. Lena notices, and crosses her arms, playing at indifference. “That was the only way anyone would drag you out of your grave, wasn’t it?”

“It was one of my terms, yes,” he replies. “And as for the others... you’ll just have to wait and see. Patience is a virtue, after all.”

Alex steps in again, and Kara is starting to wish that she would just stay out of it, because her unrelenting faith in Kara is starting to play more into Lex’s hands than her own. “It won’t matter, whatever deal you made, because as soon as this is over— as soon as Kara gets back— she’s going to kick your ass,” she declares with a self-assured smirk. It fades as soon as Lex laughs, a dry, reassured, fearless laugh that drips with the knowledge that he still has but they don’t.

“Did you hear a single word of what I said earlier, or has this earth taken away what’s left of your sense? Your sister won’t be posing a threat to anyone for much longer.” Lex is breezy and confident and miles away from the snarling, vulnerable mess that Lena had reduced him into just moments ago, and Kara feels a chill run down her spine because of it. Seeing Lex Luthor switch like this, from uncontrolled to menacingly calm, is terrifying. She understands why the blood drains from Alex’s face; she’s facing a completely different enemy, now.

After all, knowledge is power, and Lex is wielding the truth of Kara’s fate with deadly intent.

“I told myself that I wouldn’t say anything else, but I can’t. This is too good to pass up,” he continues, standing up and taking a few steps over to where Alex has been prowling behind Lena’s workspace. Seeing her brother stand up makes Lena do so as well, still attempting to act as a shield for the others. Lex eyes her tense, unmoving stance, and his smile grows. “Kara Danvers won’t be coming home in anything but a casket.”

“You’re lying,” Alex snaps, but there’s no real bite to it when her voice dies off at the end. She crosses her arms and tries to be convincing anyway. “She’s faced much worse than this.”

“Surely you’ve thought about it before. When her luck will run out,” Lex goads, and everyone in the room knows exactly what he’s talking about. There is always the question of how many battles can be won before something happens. Kara can see it in the way Oliver’s shoulders are always taut, the way Iris and Barry gravitate towards each other and don’t let go; she knows that Alex has it on her mind every time Kara’s woken up under sunlamps worse for wear.

“It doesn’t matter,” Lena tries to reason, ignoring her brother in favor of turning towards Alex. “Listening to him just makes things worse.”

But not even Lena can resist paying attention to what Lex says next. “For once, don’t you want to know the truth?” he offers almost kindly, and in the deadly silence that follows, everyone can hear Lena’s sharp intake of breath. Kara’s heart begins to beat faster, because if she knows one thing, it’s that after all of the lying and the deception, Lena just wants the truth.

She doesn’t say anything, just holds her breath and inclines her head, giving Lex all the opportunity he needs to strike. Kara closes her eyes from where she stands by the Monitor and braces for impact.

“Supergirl will fall, and this time, she won’t get up,” he rasps, crystal clear despite his quiet tone. It feels like the entire room holds their breath, leaning in close and waiting for the tension to break. “She knows it, and I know it, and just for you, Lena… I’m going to make sure it hurts when she does. I’ll make sure she dies all alone.”

The best way to describe what happens after is that the room erupts. Chaos takes over, and not a single person doesn’t react to it. Lena goes pale and her eyes go wide, and she stumbles backward just as Alex surges forwards with a roar. She isn’t the only one; Sara Lance stands up from where she’s made camp and rushes towards the middle of the room, followed closely behind by Kate Kane and Barry, who gets there first. 

But Barry doesn’t attack Lex— something Kara can’t decide if she’s thankful for or not— he gets in front of Alex, pulling her back before her fist can make contact with Lex’s jaw. “Alex, stop!” he yells, struggling to contain her even with his superspeed.

“You bastard!” Alex screams at Lex as he stays unmoving, waving his fingers even as a group of very angry, very upset superheroes begin to swarm the area around him.

Everyone chooses a side in the uproar; Sara Lances seems to follow in Alex’s footsteps as she raises her own fist, and it takes Batwoman and Ava both to divert her away from her intended target. Oliver stalks forward, violence in his quick, heavy footsteps, but stops when he sees the desperation in Barry’s eyes. The other heroes all stand as well, pushing in towards the middle but not making any clear move to attack, just shouting at each other.

Kara knew the tension would break eventually; emotions were running high as more earths were being destroyed, and though no one wanted to admit it, everyone was terrified for the fight to come. What she didn’t know was that her deal with the Monitor would be what shattered the alliance, however uneasy, that needed to be made.

She won’t be able to forgive herself if this is what dooms their universe.

“The truth hurts, doesn’t it?” Lex says in the commotion, and when his eyes lock onto Lena’s, there’s no doubt that he’s taunting his sister. Lena is still frozen amidst the turmoil, jaw clenched and nostrils flaring. Then, his grin widens into a snarl, and Kara just knows that he isn’t done torturing her. “And she still doesn’t know your little secret, does she?”

The Monitor bows his head as if in pity, and Kara is frozen in place. Watching the rest of the scuffle take place seems unimportant, now; she just wants to know what exactly Lex is hinting at. The way Lena is brought to a halt as well, her mouth dropping open as she stares at her brother, makes Kara wonder what Lex really knows. Whatever it is, it has brought the two of them to a grinding halt amidst all of the loud, pushing bodies.

“Don’t,” Lena says, and Kara has never seen her this pained. She never shows vulnerability, least of all in the presence of her brother, but now, Lena looks absolutely bared down to the bone, caught off guard and in anguish at whatever Lex has figured out. 

“Supergirl doesn’t know just how badly she broke your heart, does she? She doesn’t know how you really felt about her,” Lex says, and Lena shuts her eyes against the waves that those words make. Kara feels the ripples as well, and her mind begins to race. Lena could never… it had never been… Kara hadn’t known… she doesn’t… 

Does she?

Oh Rao, what has she done?

“You’re coming with me.” Batwoman’s hand shoves its way through the crowd and latches onto Lex’s shoulder, jolting him out of earshot of Lena, still stricken, and doesn't do anything to follow. After all, Lex really doesn’t need to say anything else. The damage is done, and Kara and Lena both are reeling from it. 

Lex is whirled around and tugged out of the crowd, and slowly, the room quiets down again. Although Kate Kane is relatively new to the crowd, the sheer intensity of her scowl is enough to give her some authority. “I don’t like you,” she growls, and even Lex balks at the anger behind her words. “But we need you alive, and out of trouble.” 

She turns to Oliver, still acting like he’s picking out the best arrow to run through Lex with, and at the raise of her eyebrow, he sobers. Batwoman and the Green Arrow are similar in that way; they can put aside their anger when they need to, even at personal cost. “Barry,” Oliver says. “We can put him in a containment cell. He can work… remotely.”

Barry nods, finally letting go of Alex with an apologetic frown. Kara’s sister shoves away from him, her hair messy and her eyes glassy with rage and fear alike, but doesn’t go for Lex’s throat. She probably realizes that she’ll have to fight a whole room of superheroes to do it— and while Kara has no doubt that she would manage just fine, she prays that Alex gets the message and calms down. Lex Luthor is their only option.

That doesn’t stop her from spitting out one last threat, however. “If you hurt her, you’re a dead man,” she says, and walks back over to Lena, staring unseeing at her brother’s departing figure. 

“I already am, Agent,” Lex replies, sending one last chilling smile their way. Lena shudders, and Kara feels what’s left of the victorious feeling she’d had earlier leave her body. “You’ll find that I’ll be very hard to kill again. I’d worry about your good, kind, stupid sister first. She’s decided on her own death sentence.”

He leaves with Kate, a stiff, sharp gauntlet poked into his lower back, but he doesn’t need a gracious exit. Lex had gotten to say what he wanted to, and now all that’s left is the scattered remains of the group’s hope, and a dwindling, growing feeling of dread. In the deafening silence, Lena slowly brings a hand up to cover her mouth, and Alex collapses into a chair pulled out for her by Sara, her face tight and gray, and Kara knows it’s already taken hold. 

Kara turns away from the scene, the guilt and the regret churning in her stomach too much to bear. “I don’t want to see any more,” she says, unable to stop thinking about Alex, and Lena, and what Lex had said. It had been easier walking away when she hadn’t seen firsthand the kind of hurt that her deal caused. 

“Very well.” The Monitor waves his hand, and they are alone again. Kara looks up at the unfamiliar stars and tries to fight off tears. She’s made a vow, and she won’t break it. This is just another form of punishment, she supposes.

“Do you think it’ll be okay?” she asks, and she isn’t talking about the fate of the universe. She wonders if the shattered look on her sister’s face, or the gaping hole between her and Lena that is now starting to feel more and more like a tragedy of epic proportions, will ever be justified by her sacrifice. “Will they…” Kara stops, knowing that this being will never give her the answer she’s looking for. It isn’t worth the agony. “Nevermind,” she says. “I just wish I had done things differently, is all.”

He moves in front of her now, and in the calm and quiet, he looks sadder than ever before. The walls between them have crumbled at Kara’s honesty. Now, the Monitor is just another soldier, one who has seen too much. He reminds Kara of herself. “I truly am sorry. This is my doing-”

This is something Kara can do. She pushes away all thought of her surviving friends and turns to the Monitor, recognizing the defeat in his tone. “-Don’t blame yourself for the faults of your family,” Kara cuts in. She knows what that’s like, and knows that it won’t get them anywhere. 

“You don’t understand. I created him. I brought him into existence through my incessant exploration of the multiverse. I ignored all of the warnings, and the signs, and kept on pushing forwards. I pushed until something broke, and _he_ came out of the wreckage.” Mar Novu’s face twists into something brand new and yet completely recognizable— grief, and guilt, and rage all seemingly branded into him. 

“You are not the first scientist whose discoveries brought out evil, nor will you be the last,” Kara reminds him, thinking of her father and his pride in Krypton, those proud, confident hands creating something as wretched as the Medusa virus. She thinks of the Science Guild, the people she was so honored and excited to join someday, and how their passion and ego doomed themselves and an entire planet. “People make terrible, horrible mistakes all in the name of good. It is in my nature as much as yours.”

(She hasn’t talked about these kinds of emotions in ages, has barely even thought of them. Krypton and her family have never felt closer to her new life as they do now, as she is preparing to make a sacrifice of her own.)

“The Anti-Monitor— _my_ brother— killed my family. My wife, and my daughter. My baby. Everything, all gone because of me.” His head bows. “I know that this pain is familiar to you, Kara Zor-El. I don’t wish to burden you with my own, but it is only right that you understand who he is. Who I am. I am afraid that there are monsters on both sides of this battle.”

Kara stays silent, gathering her thoughts. She won’t rush to comfort a man so familiar to herself— blind assurances have never worked for her, and she doubts he’d be any different. She won’t tell him that the past doesn’t matter, or act like she has the power to absolve him of a guilt he carries bone deep. All she can do is ease his strain, and give him a moment’s rest— allow his bruises to yellow, and someday, maybe heal altogether.

“You’re no more a monster than me. And I promise you that I will make sure your brother pays for what he did. I can defeat him. For my earth, and for your family. But I need a chance, and your help. Show me what I need to see, and I will win.”

The conviction in her voice must sway Mar Novu, because he stares over at her in astonishment. “I hope you know how remarkable you are, Kara Zor-El. Out of all the things I have seen throughout time— heroes, villains, destruction, salvation— you and your courage stand above the rest. You are what I hope to remember.”

(It’s recognition and praise too burdened by the circumstances to mean much of anything. Kara knows this. She knows that this man now considers himself in debt to her for her sacrifice, and the gratitude is expected. But for a man so used to remaining distant, the words are kind. Bizarre, maybe, but genuine. And Kara needs kindness right now.)

“Please,” she says, raising a hand and smiling carefully over at him. “If you insist on the compliments, then at least call me Kara.”

The Monitor actually chuckles, straightening his shoulders and looking at her with restored strength. His eyes crinkle just like Jeremiah’s did when he taught her to ride a bike, and Kara knows that he must’ve been a wonderful father. “Very well, Kara. But only if you call me Mar. The Monitor was always too high-and-mighty for my liking.”

“Okay, Mar. Now, what comes next?”

(It might not be trust between them, but mutual understanding. At the very least, Kara knows now that they are equally devoted to the parts they are to play, and even if the belief isn’t firm, she knows that Mar will guide her through until the end.)

“It is time for you to know your enemy.” Mar waves his hand, and suddenly they are standing in a warzone, or at least the memory of one. The fires blazing around them lack their usual heat, and Kara doesn’t feel the grit of the dirt beneath her boots, can’t taste the salt and iron in the air. She can’t hear the screams that should be there.

“My brother wants a universe to fashion in his own image,” he continues, walking through the ruins as if he’s intimately familiar with them. He bends down and picks up the faded, ash-streaked phantom of a child’s toy, and Kara realizes that perhaps he is. “He is cruel, and callous, but above all, obsessed with control.”

“Why?” she asks.

“All of us are made of matter and abide by its laws; instead, my brother was imprisoned by it for eons. He is antimatter, and therefore goes against everything that our universe is. He must destroy because his existence depends on it. Once he rids himself of the threat that the existing universe poses for him, he can finally be free.”

“So Lex, and Lena…” Kara says, the strategy crystallizing. “That’s why you needed them. If they work together and understand antimatter, then they can manipulate it, and destabilize the source of his power-”

“-And weaken him enough to stop the wave from destroying anything else,” Mar finishes for her. “Lena Luthor would have been capable of all this on her own, but she doesn’t have the necessary knowledge to complete the puzzle. Lex Luthor has spent longer than you know here, learning the information missing from your worlds. It is why his cooperation was so crucial.”

Kara nods and tries not to think about what Lex’s resurrection and his eventual, unavoidable escape will mean for her. What it will mean for Lena, who Lex has now vowed to cause the worst kinds of pain to. “What about the other heroes you tested? And me? Where do we come in?” 

“Once he is weakened, my brother will be trapped on that earth. Our universe will be strong enough to prevent him from escaping, and he will have to make a stand.” Mar shrugs, surveying the abandoned wreckage in front of them. “You can see the result of my brother’s path. It is carnage. Your other friends are insignificant in the direct face of his power, but they can protect the innocent. Prevent another graveyard.”

“Can you promise me that their lives will be spared?” Kara asks, thinking of Lex, freed and leering over a defenseless Lena. She thinks of Alex, charging out into a grim unknown, fighting on behalf of a world that isn’t even hers. Her sister can’t die there. Not Alex, too. Kara refuses to allow it. “I won’t be able to bear it… if I’m not enough.”

Mar understands what she’s trying to say. He knows that Kara is prepared to lose everything, knows that it would kill her if more people had to die. “Your sister and your friends will be safe,” he vows. “You are more than enough to face my brother.”

“And Oliver?” Kara presses her lips together at the memory, at the knowledge that her life was a bargaining chip used by someone other than herself. Oliver was trying to do the right thing, she knows— but it’s hard to feel that way now. Maybe none of this would be happening if he’d never done it in the first place. “What will happen to him?”

“I guaranteed him your safety, as well as Barry Allen’s. Now that you’ve made a bargain of your own, however…” Mar frowns, looking over at her warily. “I’m sorry, but I cannot foresee his fate.”

“It’s okay,” she replies. It may be for the best, the uncertainty about Oliver. He’d always preferred to have his life in his own hands; now, Kara supposes that he will get his chance. “I believe that we’re at the part where I come in.”

“So we are.” The scenery shifts, and suddenly Kara is stricken, standing in a place that she knows isn’t real and yet she gasps all the same. She glances around her childhood room, seeing the perfect replica of her oldest memories. Her toys are spilled across the floor; her books are stacked in the same order she remembered them. Everything feels so real. Kara rushes to the balcony and takes in the Jewel Mountains rising just barely visible in the distance, and the silver spires of Argo City, and above all, brilliant, beautiful Rao, sinking into the horizon and painting the world red.

Kara spins around to look for Mar and finds him standing dutifully out of view. A show of respect, perhaps, a courtesy knowing that he’s brought Kara back to the one place she can never truly return to. “Why have you taken me here?” she asks, and she knows her voice trembles but she doesn’t care. The two of them are far past acting unaffected. “You know what this means to me, don’t you? Is this another test?”

“We are here as a reminder to you, Kara. Let this be a warning that the ending will never be the one that you expect. Your people certainly did not realize theirs.”

“I couldn’t help Krypton,” Kara says, feeling herself get swept up into the phantom world of her old life. She can barely pay Mar any attention; a part of her strains to hear her father’s brisk footsteps, or her mother’s melodic voice. If she tries hard enough, baby Kal might be heard giggling in Lara’s arms. It’s so easy to let everything that makes her Supergirl slip away— leaving the scared, unsure voice of a girl who’s already lost everything once. “I failed my parents, my aunt, Kal-El. What made you choose me?”

“Because,” Mar replies, his voice somber but unwavering. “Because, Kara Zor-El, everything that has happened to you has led to this moment. Because, out of anyone that I’ve tested throughout the universe, you have survived the most. You fail, yes, and stumble, and are defeated. But you are not defined by your falls, but by your hope. You are the one who rises up; you keep on fighting despite everything, and that is who you are. That is who you will be until your last breath.”

“It’s hard to feel hopeful right now,” she admits. “Not when there’s so much that I’ve broken. So many people that I’ve hurt.” 

Her world is dead, her family gone, and yeah, she can get them back, can save the day as always, but she loses her own second chance in the process. Fixing this one gaping wound in the universe means that Kara will never allow her own to heal, means that everyone that she has ever hurt or meant something to will have to reckon with her decisions. They will spend forever knowing that she chose the world over them.

(It’s what Supergirl does. What she is supposed to do. But to her family, Kara is just Kara, and when they learn that she gave them up for the greater good, it will ruin, and break, and tear away at what Kara was to them. It will hurt— regardless of how honorable it was.)

“You must accept that you can’t mend everything, Kara, just as you’ve learned that not everyone can be saved.”

“I’m Supergirl. I should be able to save everyone. That’s why I’m here.” Kara clenches her jaw and tries not to think of her list of names. The people who are lost to her forever; the families whose mother or father, sister or brother never came home because she didn’t get there in time. “I- I can’t stop thinking about that. How maybe I’m not enough.”

“If there is one constant that I’ve seen in this universe, it is regret. Not even you are invulnerable to it.” Mar places a heavy hand on her shoulder, and Kara leans into the unforgiving nature of it. “Perhaps, you are not quite ready. There is deep turmoil inside of you. One last test, I think, to be certain. I cannot afford another mistake.”

She chokes out a bitter laugh that tears into her throat.“Don’t. Please, don’t. There isn’t anything else I can give-” 

Their surroundings bend and change once again, and Kara stands in a place— no, a moment— that she knows she’s been before. It’s just her apartment on any regular afternoon, with the sun spilling over the windowsills and reaching far into the living room. She knows the couch will be warm, the fabric faded and well-worn, and all she wants is to sink into it and sleep for the first time in days. _His Girl Friday_ plays muted on the television screen, but Kara’s had it long memorized, and can hear the lines as if Cary Grant is sitting by the rug. There’s a half-eaten pizza on the coffee table, and Alex’s combat boots are heaped near the kitchen, and her favorite blanket— the one Lena had given her all those years ago— is draped over the armrest.

Kara is back home.

She knows she’s only been gone a few days, at least for her, but this place— and the memories and people that she attaches to it— calls out to her like she’s been gone for decades. Reality halts for a moment; this place is gone, and there’s no one there to call out, but she lets the comfort of it wash away the unpleasant thoughts. Kara won’t see this apartment ever again, and the realization hits somewhere hollow in her chest. The memory of it will have to be enough. 

“There you are,” says her favorite voice on any Earth, and Kara feels tears rush to her eyes at the ghost of it alone. “What took you so long? While you were out I ordered another pizza. Couldn’t have my favorite sister passing out on me.”

Her sister leans against the kitchen counter like she’s done thousands of times, and her face holds such tangible love that Kara almost forgets that she isn’t real. If this was, and Kara was just living another day, she’d throw a pillow, or mutter something along the lines of her being Alex’s _only_ sister. Instead, because she knows what’s coming, and knows that her sister never even got a real goodbye, she gathers this Alex up in a tight hug, only loosening once she feels arms weave around her in reflex.

(It feels so real. Why can’t she pretend, even if it’s just for a moment?)

“Whoa!” Alex yelps, reaching out a hand against the counter to keep from stumbling. “I’m just kidding. You weren’t gone that long. I know that putting out an apartment fire isn’t a quick errand.” When Kara doesn’t respond, Alex pulls away, staring at her oddly. “You okay, Kara?”

Kara still can’t say anything, can’t even open her mouth without feeling like something scared and raw and ugly would come spilling out. Her hands tremble so badly that Alex grabs them and wraps them in her own.

The concern in her sister’s eyes is almost enough to break Kara down. “Kara. What happened? Was it a bad one this time?”

Kara nods, feeling a surge of relief. They have a system of sorts in place, for when one of them sees or does something that leaves them shaken. For when they’re reminded of how easy it is to lose someone that you love, and for when Kara flies home knowing that she couldn’t save someone. Even this version of Alex, real or not, will know exactly what to do. She won’t push Kara for answers, or try to shake her out of it. She will just be there, for whatever Kara needs.

“Then come here,” Alex replies simply, opening her arms and dragging Kara back into a hug. She leads them back towards the couch, where she sits Kara down, wrapping her blanket around the both of them and gently moving Kara’s hair over one shoulder. “I’m here, okay? And I’m safe. We both are.”

“Sorry. Just a long day,” she manages at last to get out, and the raspiness in her voice causes her sister to start combing her fingers through her hair, like she did when they were little and Kara would be too scared to sleep, not wanting to see the Krypton of her nightmares. “Alex?”

“What’s up?”

“Would you forgive me if I died?”

The fingers in her hair freeze for a moment, definitely not caught in a tangle, but Alex brushes the question off with a careful laugh. “Of course. When we’re old and gray, and if you’re still as annoying- sorry, _lovable_ , then you can die and I promise I won’t be mad. We can go out together in some nursing home, just like _The Notebook_. Although, Kelly would have to fit on that bed too, so you better stop eating so much.”

The laughter dies out quickly compared to the iciness of Kara’s silence. She feels a tear slip out of the corner of her eye, and thanks Rao that Alex doesn’t see. 

“No. I mean now. If I did it to protect you and our family, would you be angry?”

“The Mafia isn’t after you or something, right?” Alex teases again, like Kara knew she would. Alex would deflect and joke and refuse to deal with something for the rest of her life if she could. It’s how she copes— how she learned to, after Jeremiah, a way of never letting anything or anyone get that close to her heart ever again.

Kara knows that she is the only exception to Alex’s rule.

“Please. Be honest. I just need to know.” Alex sobers up at the gravity that carries Kara’s words. She glances over once more, looking for an escape route, but Kara doesn’t crack.

“Jesus, Kara, I…” Alex sighs, and drags a hand across her forehead. Her worry lines peek through, and she looks older than her years. “Okay. If you want honesty? It’s not like I haven’t thought about it before. I mean, you’re Supergirl. You’ve come close to dying dozens of times.”

Kara doesn’t try to comfort this memory of her sister; she knows that it’s pointless, and she’s running out of time as it is. If she wants the truth, she needs to push Alex towards it. “But would you be okay?” 

“Really, are you alright? Because I know you’ve seen some tough stuff these last few months, and if you need a break you know that-”

“Alex.” The sternness shocks her sister enough that she reluctantly turns back to trying to answer an impossible question.

“Of course I wouldn’t be okay,” Alex starts, backtracking when she sees the guilt radiating from the way Kara averts her eyes. “Wait, I didn’t mean it like that. No. No, I would be okay. I’d learn to survive somehow, I suppose. Just like you would if something happened to me.”

“Well, which one is it?” Kara asks, and she knows that she’s being pushy, knows that any version of Alex would rather run blind into a firefight than have this conversation, but she has to know. Because even if this isn’t _her_ Alex, it’s what she has. Kara needs to know how this is going to affect Alex before she can walk out into battle with clear resolve. 

Alex tries to choose her words precisely. She fidgets with the end of the blanket, and Kara knows she is fighting the urge to bolt— this is something Alex refuses to think about. “I don’t know. I’m not sure what you want my answer to be, Kara.”

“Just tell me, Alex,” Kara fires back, feeling impatient and oddly vindictive towards this ghost, who acts so much like Alex that she is dancing around a real answer, just like her real sister would. “If I died tonight, and never said goodbye, and sacrificed my own life for the sake of everyone else’s, how would you feel? If I never told you a word of what I was planning, and just disappeared. Would you hate me for it?” She begins to really push now, getting in her sister’s face even as she shrinks away. “What would you do if you had to dig my body out of the rubble? And go to Supergirl’s funeral pretending like she was just your teammate and not your sister? What would you say to Eliza, or Nia, or Kelly? Would you stop by my grave after work, or would you go to the bar instead? What about-”

“STOP!” Alex shouts, and the room lapses into a tense silence. Her sister balls her fists in her lap so tightly that Kara can hear the joints groan in protest, and Alex refuses to look anywhere near her. When she does, it’s like some switch flicks on, and Kara can feel more than see the heated emotion behind the glare. 

“I wouldn’t forgive you,” Alex says once she’s caught her breath. It’s unmistakably angry, and her expression is dark and dangerous; Kara knows that at last, she won’t get mercy. “You think I would just move on? I’m your big sister! I’m supposed to protect you. You’re hoping I’d be fine if you took that away from me? It would _kill_ me if you died. And for what? What you believe is the right thing? The noble thing? A heroic sacrifice won’t mean shit if it’s you that’s making it, Kara. Not to me. Not even if it’s to save the whole world.”

“So you’d hate me,” Kara concludes, feeling something sharp settle behind her ribcage. “If— when— it happens, you’ll spend the rest of your life _hating_ me.”

If this is what the Monitor believed would offer her peace, then he’s never found it in his life. Knowing that her decision will do _this_ to Alex— even now, millions of miles and hours and universes away from her actual reality, with a pale reflection of her sister— makes Kara wonder if it’s worth it.

(Alex was her home before Earth was. Either way, it feels like she’ll lose another world.)

“I didn’t say that.” Alex stares at her hard, but it isn’t full of contempt. Somewhere, behind the tension and the frustration, there is something soft; something fierce and warm. Something that Kara has only ever found with Alex. “I love you, Kara. And I don’t know why you’re bringing stupid, scary things up, but know that no matter what, I won’t hate you. I will always love you, and support you, and if that brings pain with it somewhere _very_ far off into the future, then… it will have been worth it, for you to be my sister and be Supergirl. Somehow, I'll understand; I know how important this is to you. And you will always do the right thing, I know that— and no matter how mad I am about it sometimes, that makes me so proud.”

“I love you too,” Kara sniffs, and hugs Alex again from underneath their pile of blankets. Alex returns the hug immediately. The stiffness leaves both of them by the time the scene on the television changes, and Kara moves closer. Alex lets her, as always, and Kara feels too tired to leave, even if she got the answer that she’d been searching for.

Just for a moment, she lets herself rest.

By the time the credits roll, the rest of the universe wraps itself back around her heart and squeezes. She knows that she can’t stay here any longer, knows that no matter how tempting, this isn’t real. Her Alex is somewhere else, and Kara can’t leave her alone any longer.

The entire dream must sense Kara’s willingness to move on, because Alex stretches and extracts herself from the mess of pillows that they’d created. Kara watches as she turns off the movie, collects her shoes, and shrugs on her jacket. She’s ready to leave— to go back to whatever version of Kara is hers, and return to someplace happier, less complicated— and Kara is having a hard time letting her go.

“Thank you,” she says softly, getting up from the couch and padding across the hardwood floor. Her Supergirl boots had come off somewhere in the second act, and she hates the thought of having to put them back on. “That wasn’t… very nice of me to put that on you. I just needed someone to talk to, and I thought of you. I’ll always think of you.”

“I’m glad you told me. You can tell me anything, okay?” Alex reaches out for her hand then, not finished with what she has to say. “But Kara, if… _that_ ever happens, I want to be there. Promise me you’ll take me with you, even if it’s just to hold your hand. No one deserves to be alone when they go. I- I’ll be there, if you need me.”

It’s an incredible, generous, awful request, one that only her sister would make. Alex should be there. Kara wishes more than anything that she could be with her now, at the end of it all. But she can’t, and Kara isn’t strong enough anymore to tell the truth, so she lies. She never lies to Alex, but she does now.

“I promise. There’s no cancelling reservations, though. I should warn you. You’re locked in now, which means that you’ll have to deal with me being _annoying_ —” Kara pokes her in the stomach hard enough to make Alex start to laugh— “For the rest of your puny human life.”

She keeps on poking until Alex, hiding her ticklish stomach and laughing with bright eyes, bats Kara’s hands away. “Okay, okay!” she chuckles. “You’re my favorite, least annoying person in the world… if you quit hogging all the blankets.”

“You’re my favorite too,” Kara whispers, and Alex rolls her eyes and grins because it’s not like it’s a secret. They know how important they are to each other. Kara knows this, which is why she needs to stop thinking about Alex before she starts to cry.

At least Alex won’t be the one in the rubble. At least she’ll get to go home and kiss Kelly, and hug J’onn, and visit Eliza for the weekend. As long as she’s safe, it will have been worth it. 

(Right?)

“Uh-huh. I get to pick the movie next time, okay? And absolutely no pouting! Even if it’s something scary.” Alex laughs, not looking at Kara’s face. In her mind, Kara is pouting already, batting her big eyes and stifling a laugh. She doesn’t look, so she doesn’t see the heartbreak dousing the light in Kara’s eyes. The door opens, and suddenly Alex is gone.

(She never wanted to leave, so she lets Alex go instead.)

Kara can feel it in the air, in the way her apartment loses its rosy warmth and welcoming light— her time has almost come. She turns and finds it abandoned; cobwebs hang suspended in the corners, and a layer of dust is settled over her dining table. Her books are missing from her shelves, and the photos that used to crowd her fridge have disappeared. Somewhere in the distance, a siren blares, but the city feels uncaring, like it has learned not to hold its breath for Supergirl. 

There is perfume in the air that Kara knew she would smell, but she’s not sure she’s ready for it. She spins, and there is Lena, looking at her as if it’s Kara who’s the ghost, like Kara is just a figment of her imagination. Lena is beautiful even now, deathly pale and with trembling hands. Her eyes are red, and Kara wonders if this is the future she’s created— Lena, alive and safe, and who Kara has never seen so sad.

(Knowing what she knows now— that somehow, maybe, impossibly, Lena loved her too, in more ways than a best friend should— casts the mournful turn to Lena’s lips in a new light. It’s the question that Kara will never be able to answer— could she have had something more? Or were they always doomed to this?)

“Kara,” she breathes, and crosses the apartment until she’s close. “Is that really you?” she asks, unable to look away. They’re so close that Kara can feel Lena’s breath hit her cheek and raise the hair on her arms; it’s the closest they’ve been in months, and the pure rush that comes from the proximity starts to blend fact and fiction for Kara.

“Lena?” Kara starts, but is cut off, because Lena goes up on her toes and kisses her, hard.

It’s the kind of kiss that Kara has never had, she knows that much. It’s a kiss belonging to some great love story, the kind you read at the end of books, or watch as a curtain drops. Lena kisses her like it isn’t the first time— she kisses her as if she thought she’d never get the chance to again.

Kara would like to say that she breaks away, that she recognizes this for the desperate dream that it is and overcomes it, but she doesn’t. She leans into it instead, wrapping her arms around Lena’s waist and pulling her flush against her. Lena’s lipstick sticks and rubs against her sensitive skin, made even more responsive by the fact that this is _Lena Luthor_ kissing her, and dream or not, it nearly overwhelms her.

But that rushed, tenseness in the air doesn’t go away— it swells around them instead, roaring in Kara’s ears. She feels tears fall in between their lips, and tastes salt; Lena’s frantic heartbeat changes to a clock in her mind, every beat bringing Kara hurtling closer towards reality.

( _Time is running out,_ it seems to whisper in her ear. They’ve never had enough time. Kara is starting to wonder if missed chances is her form of penance.)

Lena must sense it too, because her grip around Kara’s neck tightens, as if she could prevent her from leaving through sheer force of will. “Stay,” she murmurs in between kisses, each word punctuated by a new one. “Please. Don’t leave, darling. We can be so happy together. I already lost you once; I can’t do it again. I won’t be able to bear it.”

Kara breaks away from their kiss at last— still staying in Lena’s desperate embrace. It feels impossible to move any further away, now that she knows how close they can be. She rests her head against the crook of Lena’s neck, catching her breath and trying to find a way not to break another Lena’s heart. There’s no way to stop that, really— Kara had become an expert in it over the years, and nothing she could say now will change that. 

“I can’t. You know that.” The truth feels so unnatural on her tongue when she’s talking to Lena, but she has to say it all the same.

(It hits hard, hunches her over and knocks the breath out of her lungs. Is the truth always such bittersweet agony? Perhaps, it’s just because it’s Lena. Maybe it’s always been Lena.)

“I do. It’s your fatal flaw. You give a piece of yourself to everyone else until there’s nothing left to give. That’s why I love you so.” Lena brushes one last kiss against the corner of her mouth, and looks up at her with mournful, proud eyes. “Remember me when you’re up there, okay Supergirl? Keep me close, so I can be there when you need me.”

“Lena,” Kara tries, but Lena is gone, along with her cold apartment and empty world. She’s back by the Monitor. There’s soot on his armor, and a gash on his cheek.

The battle has already begun, and Kara knows that her time is up.

“I’m sorry, but I had to be sure. I needed to know you’re prepared to give it all away, when the time comes. At the very least, I hope you found some peace from it.”

“Mar,” she asked, feeling like she did a lifetime ago. When she was a child, she never understood why her parents saved her, why they didn’t go in that pod themselves. She didn’t understand what it meant to die for the sake of another. Just like her parents, though, Kara gets it now. She’s willing to. “Will it hurt? Dying?”

The other man puts a hand on her shoulder and squeezes, not that Kara can feel it. She’s too numb to register much of anything that she should be feeling right now. “I don’t know,” he says, voice cracking. “For you, I pray that it will not.”

“Am I ready?”

“Heed my warnings, and use what you have learned, and you will succeed.”

She nods, and straightens back into her Supergirl pose, her bones groaning with the effort. Somehow she manages one last smile, no matter how grim, and moves forward to the brink of the portal. “I won’t fail, Mar. I’m Supergirl. This is what I’m here for. No one has to get hurt.”

“I wish you well, Kara,” the Monitor says, his voice labored. Kara imagines that he must be ready for this to be over. “I will look after them for you.”

The _who_ is only implied, but Kara appreciates it all the same. “Make sure they know that… I had to do this. And give them my love, will you? Tell them that I’ll miss them.”

She takes one last breath of cool, fresh air, takes one last look at the stars around her. Space always used to scare her, reminding her too painfully of her pod and the Phantom Zone. Now, she just sees a sea of fallen light, and wonders if that is where she’ll find an end, up by Orion and Andromeda and further out, somewhere in the vastness, by Rao.

She’ll make a home up there with the people who sacrificed everything for her, knowing that she did the same for the people she leaves behind.

Kara steps forwards; her feet are sure, and she doesn’t look back.

… 

Everything goes just as the Monitor says it will. Whatever device that Lex and Lena made worked; the Anti-Monitor has nowhere left to go, no more worlds to raze, no more people to murder. Now it is just her. The others are still on the ground— either motionless in the rubble or only just now stumbling to their feet. Alex was okay, thank Rao, stirring now, tucked away into whatever corner that Barry had deemed safe. He isn’t running now, twisted and buried under stone. Kara can’t bring herself to search for a heartbeat. It doesn’t bother her, being up here alone against this monster. She knew walking into that portal that the Monitor picked her for a reason, that in the end, this war would fall squarely on her shoulders. It always does. 

She waits for the moment, but it doesn’t come. Whatever creatures that the Anti-Monitor brought with him do nothing to her, more a nuisance than anything. She obliterates them dozens at a time, feeling an odd sense of freedom in being able to use her full might, to be able to just punch and kick and let the Kryptonian side of her take over. She was trained to be a pacifist growing up on Earth; even when she became Supergirl, it was more about restraint than power, more grace than fury. Not in this fight. Here, Kara can feel the rage bubble up from both her Kryptonian side and Earth’s, from every facet of her being, and revels in it. 

She couldn’t save Krypton. She wasn’t ever given the chance to. But here, in this sky, with lightning all around her and her vision tinged orange with the power glowing from her eyes, Kara knows that this is her chance to prove that being sent here wasn’t punishment, but a gift. Her parents sent her here to do this. To save. To protect. To make sacrifices for. This is her purpose, and nothing would stop her from fulfilling it.

The Anti-Monitor is floating too, having absorbed the power of the other Supermen that had been brought here to help. While he may be trapped and weakened, he isn’t powerless, and will not go down willingly. It should scare her, probably, that a single being has the might of three Kal-Els, but she isn’t. No matter how strong, how fast, and how dangerous Superman is, Kara knows that she’s better. 

(She should be the one that the people fear, the one that Lex and Lillian went insane over. There’s more Krypton in her veins than will ever be in Clark’s, more _otherness_. Superman came to this planet as an infant, and while he was superhuman, he was still _human,_ constrained by what it was like, being raised on the Earth.)

Kara has always known that she was an alien, and while she loves Clark with all her heart, she’s the last true survivor of Krypton. That’s why she’s the last one standing, why the Monitor chose to spare her instead of her cousin.

So she stops bracing for the hits that the Monitor warned her were coming, and leans into them instead. When she tears through his army and reaches him at last, it doesn’t feel like a fair fight anymore. She’s so focused, so angry, so devastated at the death she knows is below, that he doesn’t stand a chance. He can feel the change in her too, she knows. His eyes widen, and though he stands his ground, there’s doubt where there was bleak nothingness before.

They both know what the outcome will be. Live or die, Kara is going to come out on top. She’ll protect this earth, and all the others single-handedly if she has to.

Lex seems to have kept his end of the bargain, and whatever device he said he could build does its job. The Anti-Monitor loses whatever incomprehensible power that he possesses from the realm he’d been unleashed from, and that makes him beatable. Beatable, however, doesn’t mean easy, and in this fight, when Kara gets hit, she bleeds. It hurts. But she works through the pain, and the discomfort of having to suffer injuries that would be lethal to anyone besides her. She’s not used to actively trying to survive getting punched, or stabbed, or hit with lasers, but she forces herself through.

They trade blows, always staying in the air, Kara making sure of that. She doesn’t want anymore casualties back down on the ground, and besides, she’s better up here. The wind picks up, and it’s a full-blown storm now. Ozone crackles around them as she strikes again and again and again, her fury showing through as she refuses to relent. 

His armor is cracking, and Kara knows that it’s almost over. One more hit, and it’ll be done. She holds up a sagging Anti-Monitor by the throat, and can’t help but feel disappointed. This is who she’s traded everything for, who she’s given away a chance at life to see defeated. It isn’t fair that someone this unremarkable at the end of it all is deserving of her sacrifice.

“You feel it too, don’t you?” he goads, his head lolling back as Kara spits blood out of her mouth. They’re practically out of the atmosphere now, but the sun that normally rejuvenates her does nothing. Her ribs are shattered; her head feels battered in, and one of her shoulders has been torn out of its socket. She feels shaky, and cold, and so, so tired. “Our end is near. It’s a pointless resistance for you. Ah… but you already know that, don’t you. Did my brother tell you it would be this way?”

“It was my choice,” Kara snarls, feeling her fingers begin to tremble. She’s so spent, all of the sudden. “I wasn’t going to let you take them from me. What needed to be done, I did.”

“Do they really deserve someone like you, Kryptonian? Will any of this be worth it?” The Anti-Monitor coughs, closing his eyes against the harsh glow coming from Kara’s. “I was trying to start anew. Create a universe that makes sense. That could be controlled. That’s all.”

“Your brother should’ve warned you,” Kara replies, taking a moment to glance at the earth below. It feels like a lifetime away, suddenly. “It’s foolish to meddle with life. It isn’t something capable of control. You really thought you could beat them into submission? Win by taking away what they love? They get kicked down, and fail, and lose everything over and over again, but each morning they try again. Their greatest battle is simply living. That’s why they- why _we_ are so much better than you.”

There’s what feels like a prick below her ribcage. Kara looks down and sees the hilt of a dagger, buried in her stomach. She should’ve known that he wouldn’t fight fairly. He grits his teeth and twists it, viciously, but Kara stays unmoving, not bothering to remove the blade, feeling blood dribble out of the corner of her mouth but not much else. Her vision feels fuzzy, but strangely enough, she just feels numb. Perhaps the Monitor has offered her one small mercy in this, letting her finish the job without the distraction of her imminent death.

Her gaze refocuses on the Anti-Monitor, and he nods his head, seemingly resigned to whatever is about to come. It resonates oddly in her mind— this… monster, so unfeeling and all-powerful, doing something decidedly vulnerable. “Do you think you’ll be remembered? None of us will be. Not even you.” His eyes close again, for what she knows will be the last time. “The last daughter of a dead world. You must be very tired, Kara Zor-El.”

“I am,” Kara says, her voice cracking. 

She brings her fist down for the last time. It punches through the remains of his chestplate, and with one last gasp of breath, the Anti-Monitor dies, his body dissolving into antimatter and blowing her back through the air. Antimatter is not meant to interact with its opposite, and it is deadly when it does. It should burn, and tear, and blow her body into pieces, but it doesn’t. The Anti-Monitor is dead, and Kara fulfills her promise. 

Though she can’t see it, and has no real proof that Mar Novu did what she asked of him, she feels it. Somewhere, somehow, her Earth has been brought back. They’re alive, all of them. She didn’t fail, and really, who cares what’ll happen now? Everyone else is safe, at the very least. It’s the most peace she’s ever had.

She hopes Lena is safe.

Kara had told J’onn once, that for her, death wasn’t giving up. It wasn’t defeat. “My mother didn’t send me to Earth to fall in love with a human, have children, live in a house with a white picket fence,” she had told him. Kara thinks of Lena now, and allows herself to wonder. Lena would be a wonderful mother, Kara knows that much. 

“She sent me here to protect Kal-El. And now, I will use my powers to protect the Earth. And if I die achieving that, I’m at peace with it.” 

_Be content,_ a voice tells her. It sounds like her aunt. 

And then, Kara falls out of the sky. 

She plummets through a gorgeous horizon, turned so red that it reminds her of home, just as the unfamiliar drop in her stomach does. For the first time in what feels like a lifetime, Kara feels the way she did when she was on Krypton. She feels human. Mortal. So very, very young.

The sun has turned red for her again. So this is what the Monitor meant when he said that the end would never be the one that she imagined. 

She knows she’ll die, whether on impact with the ground or from the fact that she’s human, and no human can survive the injuries that she has sustained. Kara doesn’t know which end she’d prefer, though it’s a decision not in her hands anymore. She hopes her body will survive the fall, for Alex’s sake at the very least. If she’s forcing her sister to bury her, she deserves to have something to bury. Does Kal know the burial rites? Then again, maybe it won’t matter. Will Rao’s light even take her now, after she’s spent more time on Earth than Krypton?

For the sake of the people she’s leaving behind, Kara hopes that she’ll be allowed to die in Rao’s grace. So, although she hasn’t done it in a while, she starts to pray to Rao, the god of her buried people. Given her impending end, it feels right.

She prays she’ll be remembered. That Krypton will be remembered, even as she joins it now. That through her strength, and pain, and sacrifice, her world will finally break free of its own destruction. That her planet will be known for something other than the end of its story. That their legacy will be one of hope, not death.

_We’re proud of you, my little star,_ Astra whispers to her. It’s so gentle, amidst all of the pain. Kara wants so badly to sink into it, but there are other voices in her head. Living ones.

She promised them she’d be safe. That she’d come home, when this was all said and done. Well, so be it. Perhaps not even Supergirl can keep all of her promises. 

Alex will be so mad, Kara knows. Rao, this will break her sister’s heart. And Eliza will have to grieve another lost piece of her family, just when it seems like she’s breaking out from under the shadow of Jeremiah. But they’ll recover. Kara was never supposed to be part of their family, and maybe now that she’s gone, Alex can live her life in the way it was supposed to be before Superman dropped a scared little girl on her front porch. Before she made the decision to spend her life protecting her little sister.

Hopefully Kelly Olsen, so good and kind and so similar to her brother that Kara knows she will love Alex in the way she deserves, won’t let her blame herself when Kara’s gone. And as for James, well— Kara hopes he knows how special of a man he turned out to be, not just as Jimmy Olsen, Superman’s sidekick, but as Kara Danver’s friend. He was her sense of morality, humanity, strength— and in an ironic enough sense, her guardian. James will tell Winn, if he doesn’t already know. She wishes she’d gotten to see him one last time.

As for the other heroes of National City, Kara doesn’t doubt their ability to keep it safe for her. Sometimes, Kara wonders if she’s not the root cause of most of her city’s woes over the past few years— dealing with her mother’s violent legacy, facing Non and Astra, or Reign having Kryptonian heritage. Even the hate groups, hellbent on attacking aliens, were bolstered when Kara first debuted as Supergirl. They saw a shining example of everything they despised living right in their hometown, and people were hurt because of it. _Lex_ took advantage like he always did, and used Red Daughter to turn the rest of the city against Supergirl. And National City always bounced back; now, with their Kryptonian dead, maybe they won’t have any crisis to recover from ever again.

Nia will have to survive without her mentor, even if she’s never really needed Kara. Nia is young, energetic, and passionate— everything that Kara was when she first started out. She prays that Dreamer’s time in the spotlight will be a long one, because the people will need a new example of hope to look towards, and Kara knows it will be Nia. 

Besides, she’ll have Brainy and J’onn to help her. Brainy has likely been preparing for this event for a long time. He knew when Supergirl died, and so he began preparing Dreamer to take up the mantle. Always prepared, always logical, and yet always eager to do the right thing: that was the core of Brainy, and it had always made Kara smile. He’ll be okay without her. As for J’onn? Kara hopes he won’t be too hurt by her loss. She knows that losing another daughter, even if not by blood, will sting. But J’onn has always been a survivor, and if any person can overcome one more death after a lifetime of it, it will be him. He’ll look after Alex too, which is all Kara can ask for.

(If Cat Grant doesn’t already know her secret, Kara has no doubt that the odd coincidence of Kara Danvers and Supergirl both dying at the same time will be the final nail in her coffin, so to speak. If anyone was going to write about her death, Kara wants it to be Cat. She’d do it justice.)

She hopes that Clark and Lois will tell her nephew about her. Little baby Jonathan, the first real miracle she’s seen in a long time. It’s easier, knowing that she isn’t the only living memorial of Krypton. That Kal will do his best to carry it into the future, whatever pieces he can manage to hold on to. And Jon will be the future of them all: the House of El’s real legacy. Besides, with a mother like Lois Lane, Jon will do just fine. Maybe he’ll get a cape of his own one day.

Before it all ends, Kara thinks about Lena. About how much there is between them— pain, and betrayal, yes, but also light, and dedication, and so much love. Enough love to last a lifetime, even one cut short. Kara never got to tell her, not in the way she planned. Sara was right about the regret, and running out of time. She supposes that’s part of what makes love such a tragedy. It’ll always break your heart in the end.

Despite it all, Kara hopes that Lena understands. She must know the truth of how much Kara does love her, of how Kara would’ve given her everything. She must have felt it too, because if not, then Kara fears she left Lena with nothing.

What will she leave Lena with? A legacy of hurt? Deception and lies up until her last breath? Will Lena even bother to grieve her, or has Kara Danvers already been lost in her eyes for too long?

Will Lena realize that everything that Kara’s ever done for her has been out of consuming, terrifying, wonderful love?

Mistakes have been made, and Kara can’t do anything about them now. The decisions that she made— out of love, out of stubborn belief, out of fear— will be her legacy to those who truly knew her. Kara wishes that Lena had gotten the chance to know her for all that she was. Maybe that would make the pain a little easier to bear. 

(Most of all, Kara prays that she will be forgiven.)

The Anti-Monitor was right about one thing; she’s exhausted, and has been for a long time now. Maybe, it won’t be so bad. A rest from all of this, at the very least. Her eyes close for the first time in what feels like decades. She supposes that she’s not afraid of it anymore. 

She’s always wanted to die for love. She couldn’t see it happening any other way, if she was going to make a sacrifice that final, than to make it for others. For Alex, and J’onn, and her friends. For the memory of Krypton and her parents who did the same for her. For Lena. She’d wanted to die in Lena’s arms, but this— the knowledge that she did all of this for the people she loved, that she got to give herself for them and nothing else— will be enough.

Somewhere beyond the pain, and beyond the gravity pulling her ever downwards, Kara can remember what it was like to hold Lena’s hand. She remembers what it was like to see her smile. As long as she can hold that in her heart, Kara doesn’t care what happens now. After all, there is no greater form of love than to give everything for it. Her parents taught her that, and Kara doesn’t know how to die any other way.

It’s a good death.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...sorry, I guess? I know this isn't the most fun chapter to read, (unless you're all about the angst, which in that case, me too) but I loved writing it. as you're well aware, this could not be further from how crisis actually played out, but I hoped you enjoyed my spin on it all the same.
> 
> rest assured that any lingering issues and loose threads will be wrapped up in the next and final! chapter. in the meantime, vent your frustrations or share your reactions to me in the comments below if you feel like it! I don't actually know what the etiquette is about comments, but please know that I read them all and really enjoy your reactions as this story unfolds.
> 
> I hope you are all staying safe and healthy! :)


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay okay I know this is a bit longer of a wait than I said it would be but.... life kinda got in the way. hope it's worth it now!

_I cannot love a hero. I do not want to see you transformed into a statue._

**-Christa Wolf**

. . .

When Lena thinks back on what happened— when she lies awake at night and tosses and turns and tries to get past the fact that her hands are _filthy_ with Kara’s blood, only one thing ever comes to mind. 

She should have known what was coming.

After all, she’d been there, the last time Lex turned the sun red— terrified and helpless and angry beyond words at what he was making her witness. He’d ranted and raved beyond all comprehension, but Lena had always understood her brother better than she wanted to admit. He’d claimed it was for the sake of the world, bringing down Superman; she’d known it was for his own sake. _Lex_ wanted to see Superman bleed for his own amusement. It had been for his ego, to prove that he wasn’t irrelevant in the face of this new world— to prove that any god that he couldn’t aspire to become was a false one.

For Lex, it’s always been personal.

Lena should have known better than to think her brother would wait to punish her, that he would ignore her past defiance for the sake of the task at hand. She should have known that he’d sent his own plans into motion long before, and she should have known that they’d involve Kara. 

But she hadn’t; instead, Lena let her brother turn the sun red again.

“That’s what you get,” Lex had told her, as the realization of what had happened, what was _going_ to happen, hit Lena like a ton of bricks, “for trying to play the hero.” He stood up, tall and dark and nightmarish in the strange new glow of the world, and Lena had never been so scared of her brother, of what he had become. “It’s your turn to lose everything.”

He turned, and he left, and no one reached out to stop him, least of all Lena, because Kara was _falling out of the sky,_ and it was all she could do to just keep breathing and watch as it happened. 

The dread came then.

It’s a quiet, unbearable thing; it crawls in under the skin and makes itself at home in the marrow of your bones— burrowing and crawling and shaking even the most steady resolve. It can destroy a person from the inside before they even know if it’s rightly founded, and Lena is no stranger to it. 

Dread was one of the few emotions allowed to _exist_ growing up in the Luthor household, and under Lillian’s watchful gaze, it became as intrinsic in Lena as her good posture. Dread is fear; it is worry; it is a lesson in the making, and it is what Lena learned to use to survive. Some people credited her skills as a businesswoman to her family legacy, or to her extensive and quality education. Some thought it was because of the ruthlessness in her DNA, but Lena knew the truth. All of her decisions, all of her careful plans and meticulous strategies came from the instinct to avoid that sinking feeling in her stomach, to avoid any more scars on her body. 

Lena hates being hurt above all else, and so became a master at avoiding it. If that meant she was too cold, or too cautious, or closed off, then so be it, so long as she wasn’t burned.

That had always made Kara Danvers a real complication.

Lena couldn’t _plan_ for Kara. There was no predicting or analyzing, no studying that could be done to prepare for something— someone— so life-changing. Not for someone that Lena had never even imagined would exist in the first place.

In hindsight, it’s easy for Lena to understand what made Kara so easy to fall in love with.

It had started off as an innocent crush, and even as it grew Lena hadn’t bothered to stamp it out. She’d never considered herself fortunate with who she loved, but Kara was different. Being in love with Kara, even as foolish and hopeless and unrequited as it was, was something that Lena had never thought she’d deserve to feel. 

Besides, by the time she’d even realized just how hard she’d fallen in such a short time, Kara had firmly established herself as a staple in Lena’s new life in National City. Lena knew it, and their friends knew it, and even the tabloids knew that whoever this person was to Lena Luthor, she wouldn’t be easily replaced.

She’d never had someone like Kara. Kara Danvers was earnest, and kind, and thoughtful, and loyal without a price tag attached. She was perfect in all the best ways: smart and strong and sensitive, brave, and gentle and wiser than she had any right to be. She helped people, and they loved her in return, and Lena had considered it a privilege simply to exist in her orbit, even if it would only ever be as a best friend. She made Lena want to be a better person every day; she’d been the one person who Lena believed was really, truly good. Kara Danvers was lightning in a bottle.

Kara Danvers was also Supergirl. Kara Danvers had also lied for years. Kara Danvers had also broken Lena’s heart.

It had been a gut-wrenching duality to wrestle with after Lena found out the truth. She would toss it around in her mind over and over— on the way to LCorp, sitting at her desk, wandering the streets of National City, alone in her apartment— and could never quite understand it. How could she reconcile the Kara who was _hers,_ who had smiled and laughed and squeezed her hand and promised she would always be there, with the Kara who was Supergirl? With the one who betrayed Lena like all the others?

Lena hated that they were two sides of the same coin. Supergirl, who was brash and arrogant and in the end, hadn’t trusted Lena to be anything better than her family name— and Kara. Kara, who had stayed the same person Lena had fallen in love with all those years ago even as everything around them changed.

If she’s honest, Lena knows she could have handled it better. But despite all of her caution and careful planning, she is a reactionary at heart— a fuse just waiting to be lit, and Kara was the worst kind of spark.

(Maybe it would have been different if Kara had been nothing more than a friend to Lena. But she wasn’t— and that made it hurt so much more.)

They’d ended as suddenly as they’d begun. One night, Lena cracked; she couldn’t handle one more sickly sweet smile or Kara’s nervous fidgeting hands or the fact that the sun had set on another day and Kara still hadn’t thought it was worth telling Lena her most important secret. Lena was tired of the fake laughs and the quiet patience and gave in to the anger that had been set to boil.

They’d fought. And the last genuine thing that Lena had ever said to Kara was that she hated her.

“This? What we had? You ruined it,” she’d said calmly, far past crying, even as Kara’s body was still wracked by silent sobs. The worst part was that she’d meant every word. What Kara had done had felt insurmountable, at the time. Past the roaring in her ears and the roughness of her throat and the sound of her heart shattering into pieces across her chest, Lena felt sure. “And I _never_ want to see you again.”

Kara, despite it all, listened. She left, and that was the last Lena had thought she’d ever see her. Sure, Supergirl would always be around, and Lena knew in all likelihood she would have to interact with her again, the message was clear. Kara heard it, and she obeyed.

Not that she stopped trying. If there was one characteristic that both Kara and Supergirl shared without a doubt, it was that they didn’t give up easily. Kara listened to Lena, and she respected her wishes, but she also sent texts, and emails, and voicemails. Kara refused to just disappear completely, and Lena hated her for it as much as it became a lifeline.

She still deleted the voicemails.

As for the texts, well. Lena never quite had the heart for it, and now that Kara is gone… it’s all Lena has left of her.

The worst part is that Lena had truly believed that they’d have more time. Time for her heart to at least thaw out a bit, for her to consider taking one of the olive branches Kara was holding out. Time enough to see Kara as the person she really, truly was, without the lingering hurt to paint the colors for her.

When you love someone the way Lena loved Kara, forgiveness comes remarkably easy. Lena doesn’t even know when it happened, but sometime in between the screaming and crying and fighting and Kara’s disappearance to another Earth, Lena knew she’d forgiven her.

That was why she had agreed so readily to help when Alex showed up at LCorp with worry lines around her eyes and said that Kara had been missing for several days. After all, Kara _was_ still her best friend, and Lena wasn’t about to abandon her despite the lingering feelings of hurt and betrayal. She would help find Kara, and maybe someday, they would be able to talk about what happened without either of them feeling like their heart had been ripped out.

Besides, this was Kara. As if Lena would ever consider not helping her if she was in trouble, even if she wasn’t sure she really recognized her best friend when she was wearing one side of her identity. 

Kara was still _Kara_ , Lena knew. She’d thought that they’d have time— that she’d have time— to come to terms with that.

(They didn’t.)

Lena wishes she could forget what happened— wishes it wasn’t seared into her mind and reflecting across every blank surface and behind her eyelids when she tries to sleep. Lena would give anything to forget what it had been like to see Kara die.

It had been one thing to _think_ Kara was dead. Lena had watched her distant silhouette come crashing down until it disappeared from view. She’d felt the dread wrap itself like a cold hand around her hand and squeeze when, in the sudden silence, a boom reverberated through the empty city, powerful enough to rattle the equipment from where Lena was in STAR Labs. The other scientists stared, shocked, as a pencil rolled and clattered to the ground. That was the last sound that any of them had made.

Logically, Lena had realized several things: that that was Kara, who had fallen; that the sun was red, by her brother’s hand, which made Kara horrifyingly human; that no one, not even Supergirl, could survive a landing that rocked an entire city to its core. Somewhere in the back of her mind, Lena had remembered the set to Kara’s shoulders as she’d walked away with the Monitor, like whatever weight she was holding was the heaviest it had ever been. She could remember how scared she’d looked, even though Kara _never_ looked scared.

And Lena had remembered Lex’s words when he told her that Kara would die, and her blood would be on Lena’s hands.

But Kara had always defied logic, hadn’t she? Despite Lena’s past, and her family, and her general understanding that happy endings didn’t actually exist, she’d made an exception when it came to Kara. She’d always defied every rational part of Lena’s life, had always crashed through the best-laid plans,than and made it worth it in the end, because Lena didn’t mind jumping blindly when it was Kara Danvers waiting to catch her. Kara— good, kind, _brave_ Kara— would come through in the end, even if she was worse for wear, because she always did. Kara Danvers didn’t just die; _Supergirl_ couldn’t just die. 

Except that was exactly the opposite of what Lena had told Kara, once upon a time.

“I wonder if she ever thinks about it,” Lena had mused once, what seems like forever ago.

She’d stayed late, like she often did, to help Kara clean up after a game night with their friends. With Kara busy washing the wine glasses in the sink, Lena had begun to clean up the sprawling mess of random game board pieces and crumpled Monopoly bills that were all across the living room floor. The news had been on in the background, replaying footage of Supergirl’s first awful fight with Reign, and even though it had been the hundredth time she’d seen it, Lena couldn’t look away.

There had always been _something_ about watching Supergirl fight that was so captivating. Watching her lose, especially like that, wasn’t easily forgotten. The whole world could remember that fight, and still turned their heads toward it then, even after Supergirl came out of her coma and was back in business.

Kara had kept her back pointedly turned towards the sink.

“Hmm?” Kara called back to Lena, too concentrated on her task to pay attention. Her hands, like always, had been covered with soap, the suds and the water dripping freely down her forearms and onto her sweater and the floor. Lena could remember how hopelessly endearing she’d found it.

“Supergirl,” she’d replied. “I wonder if she thinks about what would happen if she dies.”

“Well,” Kara had said, and looking back on it now Lena can recognize the forced breeziness and innocence to her voice. She knows why Kara never liked to watch Reign beat her bloody and drop her 40 stories into a coma. She wishes she’d known sooner. “I suppose we all do, don’t we? In a morbid sort of way. I’m sure she’s no different.”

“Maybe,” Lena had agreed. She stood up and brought a towering stack of boxes over to the dining table, setting them down and walking towards the kitchen, lingering at the counter. She could have left hours ago, but Lena had always craved those quiet moments with Kara. In her mind, it was the closest she would ever get to domesticity. “But she _is_ different, you know? She may be strong, but she isn’t invincible. What she does is dangerous, and it’s bound to get her killed at some point-“

“You think Supergirl is going to be killed?” Kara interjected, and the water turned off. Still feigning comfort, Lena knows now that Kara had really started listening.

“I don’t think people like her live long, happy lives, Kara,” Lena had said. “Just look at what Reign did to her. Eventually, there’s going to be a battle she can’t walk away from. No one can be a hero forever.”

“I guess.”

Lena had pushed on, undeterred by the hesitance in Kara’s voice. “Wouldn’t your perception of death change when it’s a real possibility every time you go out and use yourself as a punching bag?”

Kara’s back had stiffened, but Lena brushed it aside like she always did with her best friend. “Maybe she sees it as an honor,” she had said, quiet. “She comes from a dead world. To her, maybe it isn’t so scary. There are worse things, after all.”

“What could be worse than death?” Lena had asked, and she should have seen the truth then in Kara’s eyes, because when she turned around and finally glanced over at Lena, she looked tired. It had been one of the rare times that the heaviness that Lena knew followed Kara Danvers around like a shadow made itself known.

“Living is, sometimes,” Kara had answered. “And so is defeat. Better to know that your sacrifice won’t be in vain— that it would protect people. She doesn’t want it to be pointless.”

“Death is always pointless. No matter what intentions are behind it.” 

Kara glanced over, looking genuinely surprised. “Do you really think so?”

Lena gave a small half-shrug and grabbed a dishtowel, joining Kara by the sink. She’d thought of her mother, wading into the clear emerald of the lake. How she hadn’t been enough of a reason for her mother to stay. “It is for the people who lose that someone.”

Kara had given her a small, sad smile, moving the tiniest bit sideways until their shoulders touched. The gesture warmed Lena to her bones, and she leaned into it without thinking. They’d worked in silence for a while, and Lena had thought the conversation was done until Kara had spoken up again.

“I’m sure Supergirl hopes that the people who care about her don’t see it as a waste,” she’d said, and even then, Lena could see something indecipherable in her eyes. Something pained, but altogether firm. Lena hadn’t known just how much Kara had understood where Supergirl was coming from. “If she has to give her life, it would be for them. In a heartbeat.”

“I pity them. I couldn’t do it, loving someone like her,” Lena had said, and Kara’s breath had hitched slightly. Just enough that she hadn’t questioned it at the time, but couldn’t stop thinking about now. “I wouldn’t be able to bear it.”

It’s different, now that Lena knows who Supergirl is. Even if she’d said those things to Kara and had meant them at the time, they aren’t true anymore. It’s one thing to remain detached to Supergirl as the bright, shining, altogether anonymous figure whose face Lena decided to never look too closely at, and another for it to be Kara. Because of course it was Kara who jumped into burning buildings and coaxed cats out of trees and sat by little girls on the curb when they had a bad day at school. And of course it was Kara who believed so absolutely that the best she could give was her own life, because even before Lena knew that she and Supergirl were the same person, she’d known that Kara would give all she had to protect someone, even a complete stranger.

Lena is left with the fact that she loved most the person she was most afraid of loving, and it might be the cruelest hand fate had ever dealt her.

She can’t really remember how she got to the wreckage. She could remember stumbling through the streets, shaking off the insistent hand of whoever was whispering horrified reassurances and trying to hold her back and breaking into a run. The streets were cracked and hot to the touch, and there were so much rain and dirt and ash falling from the sky that Lena could barely breathe. She squinted in the harsh red of the sunlight, and disoriented, her ankle had twisted somewhere near a burnt-out car. Lena had paid it no real mind and kept going, abandoning her shoes somewhere in between and picking up the pace because she could _smell_ iron in the air— could practically taste Kara’s blood as she limped through the red haze.

It wasn’t hard to find. There was a crater in the middle of downtown Central City, so massive that it had taken out three city blocks with it. Lena began picking her way through the twisted metal and broken remains of concrete foundations and knew she was getting close because she began to see the others.

There was Barry, already tearfully reunited with his wife but whose face was contorted with something terrible that twisted Lena’s gut just by glancing at it. And the Green Arrow, holding a blood-stained bandage against his side tight, face covered in soot, and looking like he was still searching for a fight— for something to punish. There was the blonde woman who had gone to talk to Kara— Sara, Lena thought her name was— wiping away tears that kept falling. She was holding hands with another woman who Lena didn’t recognize, but who was staring at her with such sympathy that it felt too overwhelming coming from a stranger. 

They were all there, in varying states of injury, but they were all alive. And they were either staring blankly towards the desolate center that Lena was still pitching towards, or staring at her. And Lena recognized the look on their faces because she had seen it before; it had been the same way they’d looked at Kara when someone had to tell her she’d lost another home.

They were telling Lena the same thing.

Still, it had been impossible to believe, because Kara hadn’t deserved that. And as Lena stumbled through the debris, she couldn’t help but pray to whoever it was who was listening that this would be like one of the movies that Kara had loved so much; where the hero lives no matter what the odds are. Where they live, and get to come home— and where they get to see the people they love again.

Someone’s wail cut through the ringing in Lena’s ears. She had known then that Kara wouldn’t get to have that type of ending.

Alex was in the epicenter of it all, half-buried in the rubble herself, though likely by her own doing. Somewhere, Lena’s brain registered fuzzily that the awful sounds she was hearing were coming from Kara’s sister, hunched over something in the ruins. She held it close to her chest, with a protectiveness that screamed clearly that she would rather die than be parted from it. 

All of the pieces were coming together, yet Lena refused to connect the dots. Not until she saw it for herself. Because if there was even a minuscule chance that it wasn’t Kara that Alex was sobbing over, then Lena was going to hold onto it for as long as possible, reason and logic and every other rule and rationale that she valued so highly be damned. 

When she finally saw her, Lena couldn’t ignore the truth any longer.

It was one thing to think Kara was dead, and another to see it with her own eyes.

Lena doesn’t try hard to recall the moment. She can’t quite remember what seeing the body was like, only that it was Kara’s. It’s the small details that cling to her like a bad dream: a wrist slack against the pavement; bruising showing through the rips and tears in the suit; the white plaster, dried together with sweat and rain and dirt against the sigil on Supergirl’s chest; the blood— so, so much blood. Lena didn’t look closely at her face. She knew if she did, whatever unspeakable feeling that had been growing in her chest would crack it open from the inside, would tear its way out of her throat and come pouring out of her eyes. She would bleed from the agony of it, so Lena refused to meet Kara’s closed eyes. She couldn’t bear it. 

At that moment, she couldn’t remember feeling that much. Lena can only remember feeling the numbness, so strong that every inch of her body by the time she’d reached Alex in the middle of the crater, and when she collapsed on her knees amongst the shards of glass, she didn’t feel the cuts. She barely registered the tears falling down her cheeks, though she must have been crying, because she could see a damp spot growing on Kara’s shoulder and her vision had been so blurry she could barely make out Alex’s face two feet in front of her. Shock was a potent drug, and Lena clung to the relative security it provided, even if she knew she was only delaying the inevitable. Eventually, the ground would come out from under her, and Lena would feel every bit of the jagged pain waiting underneath her.

But for now, she stayed where she was and didn’t let go of Kara’s cold hand.

Others joined the crowd at some point. Familiar faces came scrambling down the mouth of the impact, after what could have been minutes or hours of Lena and Alex there, shielding Kara together in an unspoken agreement. They were legion, the two of them— Kara’s sister and her best friend and despite what had happened in the past, Lena knew she would be bound to this other woman forever, forged in this moment of white-hot, incomprehensible grief.

Their friends— Kara’s family— came in groups: J’onn first, landing with a thud before letting out a sigh and going straight for Supergirl’s broken, battered form; his hand settled on her forehead, and he mumbled something that, while Lena recognized it as being distinctly alien, carried a universal feeling of pain with it. Kelly and James were next; Kelly went to her girlfriend, while that must have been James who put a heavy hand on Lena’s shoulder. Then Brainy and Nia were there; they crept closer in the edges of Lena’s vision, and looking into Nia’s eyes, Lena knew that this sweet, young girl, who had always been exactly what she’d imagined Kara to be when she was first starting out on her own, wasn’t prepared to confront the scene in front of her. Nia turned, and she gagged, and Lena wished she could turn away from Kara too, but she couldn’t. 

Superman arrived last.

He let out a sound that Lena couldn’t have ever imagined him making, more a howl than anything else— all raw and animalistic and wounded. At that moment Lena had hated him, maybe not in the same way Lex did, but certainly equal in its ferocity. She wished that Lex had succeeded in killing Superman all those years ago, because then he might have been sated, his personal crusade over. For just a moment, she wanted it to be him in the rubble; she wanted it to be Kara who was alive, clutching at her heart and digging her boots so hard into the ground that tiny pebbles seemed to float from the vibrations. She wanted it to be Kara who lost another piece of her heart because at least then she would be alive. At least then Lena would be able to wrap her arms around her and apologize for every stupid, meaningless thing she’d ever said and feel a beating heart against her own.

Their eyes met for the briefest moment, and strangely enough, Lena knew that Superman was wishing the same thing she was. 

He understood that losing Kara was the last thing that should have happened, but there was nothing to be done. Kara had finally gotten to protect her world and her family, and not even Superman could undo her sacrifice.

The shock started to wear off then, and the finality of what this would mean branded itself permanently against Lena’s ribcage.

Kara Danvers was her best friend. Kara Danvers had taken her heart and pieced it back together more times than Lena could count. Kara Danvers was a wonderful, terrible, awful lesson in the making, and Lena should have known better than to get too close to someone like her, because Supergirl or not, Kara Danvers was always going to give herself away for the sake of others.

But most of all, Lena should have known what was coming.

. . .

Lex comes to visit not long after.

“I’ve gotta say,” he says, stepping into her office sometime past two in the morning, his shoe crunching the already shattered bottle of scotch on the floor as he shows up with little fanfare. It’s a shockingly modest entrance for her brother, who Lena had been waiting to make an appearance ever since she first returned to National City. “I don’t quite know what I was expecting, but this? This… is so much better.”

Lena, as she’s been for the past three days running, is drunk beyond the point of standing, much less acknowledging her brother in any poised way. She stays where she is, slumped against the glass of her balcony and half-heartedly wishing she’ll just pitch over it rather than having to endure whatever Lex is rubbing his hands so gleefully about. 

She stays silent, wondering how Lex sees her now. He must revel in the sight of her looking so thoroughly destroyed; any discipline or restraint or ability to suppress and ignore that growing up with Lillian as a mother had given her was gone now, had been gone since sometime past noon yesterday. Her clothes are wrinkled, and her office is trashed, and even with a gun to her head she couldn’t have told Lex where to find the light switch. Lena knows that her mascara is streaked and mottled down her cheeks— why she even bothered to put any on in the first place, she isn’t sure. Probably a half-sober attempt to regain some type of control over a world that was spinning too fast and too slow at the same time.

In a bizarre, slightly depressing sense, this is the most free Lena’s ever felt around her brother. There are no more convoluted layers or complicated histories between them, no more chess moves to be played through tense jaws, polite jabs, and sickly sweet smiles, no more motivation to beat him at his own game. Lex had won— he’d beaten her and gotten his trophy in the form of a dead hero to brandish like a prodigal son— and for once in her life, Lena can’t find it in herself to keep her head up despite it all.

“Are you here to kill me?” she asks, slurred and sounding almost bored, as if she’d rather this be over with sooner rather than later. Lex just smirks, shoving his hands in his pockets and wandering around her desk like he’s considering remodeling. 

“And put you out of your misery?” he says with a chuckle that almost comes across as fond, save for the coldness in his eyes. Whatever warmth that Lena had mistakenly found in her childhood memories with Lex is gone; now, Lena sees the monster that was always just out of sight. “That’s not really the Luthor way, is it?” He smoothes out the label of whatever bottle Lena had blindly picked out earlier in the day, and almost looks impressed at the selection. “Though unhealthy coping mechanisms certainly are. Maybe there is some of that family blood in you after all.”

“Dad would be so proud,” Lena goads. “Though, I never had to work quite as hard for his approval as you did. I can’t imagine he’s resting easy knowing his son is a weak coward, who couldn’t win without cheating.”

“Come now, Lena. You know Dad had a soft spot for cheaters.” Lex takes the jab in stride, obviously delighted that there’s still some fight left in her. “And are you really upset about _how_ I killed her?” he asks, and Lena can’t be bothered to hide the shiver that moves down her body at the simple mention of Kara. “I thought you of all people would at least appreciate the symbolism behind it. Our families came full circle. I found it rather poetic.”

Lena scoffs, turns over the glass tumbler in her hand. She would throw it at his head, but her aim has never been good, and it won’t be any better now. “You always thought yourself grandiose. It comes off more narcissistic.” 

“Be nice,” Lex says, chiding. “After all, I’m trying to do a good thing here, act like a concerned older brother. Consider this a wellness check.”

“Or a victory lap,” Lena mutters, but Lex just presses on.

“You know,” he says, “I’ve been thinking. There’s no reason this can’t all be water under the bridge for us. So, you killed me. And I killed your little pet Kryptonian. Why don’t we let bygones be bygones?”

If Lena weren’t so exhausted already, the shake in her voice would be a sign of weakness, but she is long past worrying about what vulnerabilities Lex can sniff out. He’d already exploited her biggest one, and is reaping the benefits as they spoke. “You really think that?” she asks. “You’re delusional.”

Lex pauses by her desk, surveying its contents, and Lena’s stomach drops like a brick in water when she sees his hand idle over to the few personal effects she has gathered there. He grabs an overturned picture frame and studies it, his grin growing impossibly more pompous. 

Lena doesn’t even have to glance over to know who’s in the photo. There’s only one person it could ever be.

“Would you feel better if I said I’m sorry?” he asks, completely unapologetic. Lena just closes her eyes against the bleariness and tries to picture Kara as she was in that photo— with bright eyes and a relaxed smile and an arm wrapped tight around Lena. She’d been happy— _Lena_ had been happy, and now Lex had his fingerprints all over that fleeting memory as well.

“Because I am, you know,” he continues, and shockingly, it’s genuine. Lena is foolish or too drunk to wonder why, so when her head jerks up, she only sees the shining malice in her brother’s eyes. Another trap that she’d wandered blindly into. Lex walks over and crouches right next to her, close enough that he doesn’t bother to raise his voice above a whisper. “I didn’t want it to be so quick. If I’d have gotten my way, she would have suffered even longer.”

“Fuck you,” Lena tries, but it’s like Lex doesn’t even notice her presence anymore. His grin widens to an unnatural degree, and his eyes become more unhinged than menacing— though for Lex, those always went hand in hand.

“I just wish I could have been there in person, though I have seen the pictures. Especially that _one_ — you know which one I’m talking about, don’t you?” Lena swallows harshly because she does— and the anger that had thus far been dampened by the alcohol weighing down her body begins to build now, a fire in her gut being steadily coaxed by her brother. “I think I may get it framed. You just look so… sad, in it! Like the world is ending, and all for some alien. You know, Lena, for someone who gets lied to so often, I’d have thought you’d be better at hiding how in love you were with-”

Lena lashes out clumsily. She flings her glass, her accuracy be damned, and by some miracle it manages to glance off her brother’s shoulder. Not that Lex cares. He just rocks back on the balls of his feet, just far enough away that Lena’s half-hearted lunge for his throat misses entirely. 

“Now, now,” he tuts, condescending and cruel, and Lena _hates_ him— hates him more than she’d ever thought herself capable of hating anyone, even her brother. If killing Lex all those months ago now had been a matter of last resort, then Lena would do it now for the satisfaction alone. She wants him to die, because this is the man who murdered Kara, and who laughs about it now, as if he’d only broken one of her childhood toys.

To Lex, Kara had been expendable, forgettable, worthless. She was a prop to add melodrama to the twisted play he believed this world acted as a stage for, when Kara was so much more. He places the photo right next to her, and through her tears, Lena glares.

“I’ll kill you,” she tells him, sagging back against the floor. There’s no urgency to her words, but she is deadly serious, and Lex knows it. His eyes narrow, and Lena clenches her jaw. “Even if it takes me years. I’ll do it again.”

His eyes are dark in the nighttime, and for a split second Lena wonders if he’s changed his mind about killing her himself. Lex is many things, but he’s never been one to ignore a threat— and he knows what Lena is capable of. But instead he just laughs. 

“I don’t think you will,” Lex says after a moment of silence, getting back to his feet and towering over her. “The damage is done, and you’re too late to save her. Besides,” he adds, straightening his spine and injecting some ice of his own into his voice. “There’s no sense in giving me a reason to retaliate in any way. Your friends have already lost so much.”

Lena’s breath hitches. “Is that a threat?” she asks, and Lex actually rolls his eyes.

“Of course it is,” he answers, honest for once in his life, and Lena feels a tendril of the same fear she’d felt when Lex had first come back from the dead wrap back around her heart again. The last time Lex had decided to take his revenge on her, Kara ended up dead, and Lena can’t- she _refuses_ to have any more lives on her conscience. “I killed a god for you. Do you really think I would bluff now?”

Lena grits her teeth against the sting of her brother’s words, his insinuation that Kara’s death had been _for_ her— like somehow, he thought it was on her behalf. “What do you want from me?” she asks, the exhaustion from before creeping back into her voice. “Do you need someone to tell you that you won?”

“No. All the people wearing black and weeping on the streets stroke my ego just fine.” 

“Then what?” she yells, throwing her hands in the air and looking at her brother for a real answer. It feels just like when she had been a little girl, new to the Luthor name and everything that came with it, and adrift, she’d clung to the one steady anchor that she could find: her new brother. Lex always knew what she should do, once upon a time. That unconscious need for stability seems tainted now, and Lena grimaces at the sour taste it leaves. 

“I meant it when I said I wanted a fresh start.” Lex walks back to her now, and what sickens Lena most is that this time, he might actually mean it. Lex might actually believe that she would rejoin his side at last, like National City and her work there and _Kara_ had been nothing but roadblocks for him to remove. “You’re the only one who’s ever understood me, Lena. I know I said you weren’t, but you- you are just like me-”

“I’m not-”

Yes you are!” he roars suddenly, and Lena goes quiet again. “Don’t lie to yourself. We are _exactly_ alike. This time around, we don’t have to pick opposite sides. No one else has to die. This time, it can be just us, changing the world.”

Lena stares up at her brother that once, she did know so well, and she finds that she doesn’t recognize much of what’s left of him. The years and the jealousy and the madness have taken their toll, but Lena does find the glimmer of sincerity in his eye familiar. Lex had always had a certain… zeal, when it came to their family. Blood has always mattered most to him, and Lena finally sees it for what it is.

Lex’s greatest flaw lies not in his hubris, or in his arrogance; it lies in the fact that deep down, he loves their family, despite it all. He loves her, in his own twisted way. Lex wants Lena to be the loving, obedient sister she used to be, because above all, Lex Luthor doesn’t want to revel in his power alone.

In another world, the realization may have broken Lena’s heart, but not this one. This universe is cold and devoid of mercy, so she bares her teeth and uses that to her advantage. 

“Maybe we are the same,” she admits, not really knowing anymore what the truth is. “But if we are— if we really understand each other— then you should know that I will _never_ come crawling back to you. I don’t need you, Lex,” she says, silky but cutting all the same, and for the first time since he’d walked in, her brother loses control of the room. “I never have, and I never will.”

There’s quiet, between them, and at long last, Lena sees the understanding pass through her brother’s face. He looks disappointed, truly, deeply defeated by his realization that Lena will never be the little sister she used to be, and Lena tries to find a victory in that, she does. But she can’t, because she knows what she’s brought on herself by telling her brother the truth. 

“Fine,” he says, slow and soft but angrier than Lena suspects he’s been since before Kara died. This is the brother that she knows now— the one hardened by losses and setbacks and rejections. The one who takes everything personally, and who never quite forgets the sting of it. Lena would know, because she’s the same way. “You can be alone, then. I doubt you’ll find anyone willing to love you when the last person who did… well. You remember what happened.”

His words are leading, but Lena knows how to follow, and she understands her brother’s message completely, her heart twisting with it. 

If Lex can’t have her by his side, then no one will.

“Goodbye, Lex” she answers, keeping her head bowed and not bothering to meet his eyes. Whatever she finds there will only make her more afraid of what her brother is capable of.

He stalks out without another word, but still Lena stays where she is. The cold air does an excellent job of shocking her system, a grounding contrast to her pounding heart sending spikes of prickling heat through her bones, and with the clearest head she’s had in days, Lena reaches an understanding with herself. 

Lex isn’t going to hurt anyone else because of her, and Lena will do whatever she has to to make that happen. If that means cutting off her friends and family and anyone else who’s ever shown an ounce of kindness towards her, then so be it. Lena can live with that. She’s good at being alone. Or at least she used to be, before she’d made the foolish mistake of falling in love. 

She manages to hold out until she can hear the elevator doors close before she scrambles to her trash can and gags, vomits and heaves and pants until there’s nothing left. Lena swallows around a dry, sore throat and hopes that somehow her brother’s poison is out of her body, even if she knows that it’ll always be in there. Then, she sits back down on the hard marble floor and cries. She mourns Kara and her friends and all the hope that she’d had for the life she’d been building here until the rays of the morning sun sneak back over the horizon, and she cuts herself off. Lena gets to her feet on unstable legs and wipes her tears and takes one last look at the sunrise. It reminds her so much of Kara.

Then, she resigns herself to her loneliness.

. . . 

It’s been two weeks since Kara died, and one week since she’s been buried when Alex Danvers finally kicks down her door. 

“Where the hell were you?” Alex says in place of a greeting, marching into Lena’s office and ignoring the furious protests of Jess over her shoulder. Lena looks up from her computer with a raised brow, not all that surprised but glad for the few glasses of wine she’d already downed that afternoon. Alex does take after her sister after all, and seeing her march into her office just like Kara did once upon a time makes the pain that much more jagged.

“Alex,” she says in greeting, continuing to work on the prototype on her desk rather than have to look Alex Danvers in the eye. “How are you?”

It’s a formality more than it is a real question because Lena _knows_ how Alex is, can glean it just by the paleness of her face and the smell of alcohol that limped in behind her like a wounded dog. She knows because if it’s even half as bad as how Lena feels, then Alex is in real trouble. Alex doesn’t need to answer such a stupid question, and she bats it aside with fury in her eyes.

“You didn’t come to the funeral,” Alex says, straight to business, and even though Lena is expecting it, she still flinches. Words like that don’t sting any less even if they’re prepared for.

“Yes I did,” Lena replies, sticking out her chin and still refusing to look anywhere near Alex and not even bothering with appearances anymore, pouring herself another round. If this is really happening, Lena refuses to do it sober. “Channel Five had their cameras particularly focused on me if I recall, as did the tabloids.”

Lena had gone to the public ceremony, where they buried what she knew was an empty casket in front of hundreds of people, millions more watching from home. Her reputation would have been ruined if she hadn’t, her company‘s good deeds and her personal contributions meaning nothing to the people waiting to see if a Luthor had the gall to show up to Supergirl’s funeral. 

(And there was the matter of that photo, already immortalized across the world. Supergirl’s battered, still body, with the sister of the man who killed her cradling her head in her lap, tear tracks. Lex had been right; no one who saw that photo could ignore the look of heartbreak on her face, and now Lena was left with the very public matter of navigating a funeral that would have more eyes than usual watching her.)

By the time Lena had arrived it was the biggest media circus she’d ever seen; she was thankful for whatever foresight she’d somehow found to wear her darkest sunglasses and a coat whose collar blocked most of her face from prying eyes and cameras. She’d kept her hands shoved deep into her pockets for the entirety of the ceremony, clenched into fists tight enough that as soon as it was socially acceptable to, she slipped out and into the relative safety of her town car, there’d been dried blood on her palms. 

Superman presided over the event, rigid and cold and more pained than Lena could ever remember seeing him. There was no gentle benevolence to be found in his smile, no hope left in his sagging shoulders. Even when he’d caught her eye, he hadn’t so much as recoiled, as surprising as it must have been to see her at the funeral. He just stared right through her, and despite the distance Lena had seen the tear tracks staining the hero’s face. Superman looked defeated, unsure as to how to actually be the last Kryptonian in this world. He wasn’t the same man as he was before. 

Lena supposed none of them were.

There were others she knew in the crowd, though she had made no effort to seek them out. Lena couldn’t deal with the remains of Kara’s family— not like this. Not when she hadn’t returned James’ or Sam’s calls, and ignored Brainy’s awkward, well-meaning attempt to hug her when they’d first received the news, and pretended she hadn’t heard Nia’s cautious knock on her door. It hadn’t made her feel any better when they kept their distance from her as well— though it was probably for the best. Space and time was the mantra for loss, after all, and Lena was an expert at finding them.

Instead she watched them stick together in an unassuming, innocuous little group off to the side, their breath freezing in front of them and rising up, blending into the air. No one would ever expect that those were the people that Supergirl had loved most, once upon a time. Lena stared over at them and wondered if they’d ever blend into the crowd for her too, if she’d stop seeing the ghosts left behind. Maybe if she tried hard enough, she wouldn’t see Kara’s face in the huddled masses.

It had been sad in a detached, emblematic sort of way. There had been hundreds, if not thousands, of people whose lives had been touched by Supergirl, and just as many showed up to pay their respects to the hero. The world had mourned, but eventually, they would move on. Lena knew this. The black clothes and the bowed heads and the haunting quietness that had been draped over National City like a shroud would go away someday. The streets would play music again, and people would laugh, and no matter how impossible it seemed to her, the sun would shine again. 

No. Lena wants to scream because the world is off its axis for no one else but her and a handful of people— because while she can understand moving on from Supergirl, Kara Danvers is different. What Lena can't fathom is how _she_ is ever supposed to move on. The person who wore the cape is much harder to grieve than the symbol she became.

“Not Supergirl’s,” Alex growls, and Lena regrets saying anything at all. She remembers Alex at the funeral, wearing her DEO uniform and having to pretend that she wasn’t helping to bury anyone more than a colleague. Lena can’t imagine the kind of restraint that required. This is not a woman to be testy with, even if Lena can’t help it. “Kara’s.”

Lena tastes something bitter that’s not her drink, and she bites back before she can swallow it down. “I’m in on the secret, in case you forgot. And there’s not much difference, is there?” Alex narrowed her eyes, and Lena would have found it cathartic had the underlying awfulness not knocked the breath out of her lungs.

She hadn’t gone to the real funeral, the one that really mattered, and a part of her is proud of it, had viewed it as a step in the right direction. A part of her believed that this meant that she wasn’t grieving— that maybe, just maybe, she could discard Kara Danvers like an old coat and move on with her miserable life. And the other part, the broken heart hitting tenderly against her ribs, felt ashamed that Lena could ever view ignoring Kara as some kind of victory.

That side of her is a little too afraid of how similar she is to her brother.

Little boxes were never going to work for Kara, no matter what Lena had tried to delude herself into thinking. Kara Danvers was too significant of a person, had carved too massive of a corner into Lena’s heart for her to be able to shove her someplace deep where she’d never have to think about her again. Attics and basements and vast labyrinths of vaults, and still Kara would spill through. Still, Kara would linger.

(And while she’ll never admit it to Alex, Lena had gone to Midvale. She’d waited until she knew the ceremony was long over, until everyone else, even Alex, had returned to National City— until she knew she wouldn’t have to look anyone remotely connected to Kara in the eye— and had limped out of her car. She had climbed up the steep, unkempt hill in her high heels while the rain had been pouring around her, turning the weeds and the dirt into mud that seemed to suck her down into the earth right alongside the graves. Lena had reached the top, and had stared at the stone in front of her. _Kara Danvers_ was freshly etched into the granite, and below that, _Loving Daughter, Sister, and Friend to All._

That had been it. Kara Danver’s legacy— her triumphs and defeats, struggles and successes, flaws and strengths and years worth of relationships and memories— boiled down into a handful of words, however apt. Supergirl’s tomb is massive, expensive, impressive— and houses an empty casket. This grave that actually held Kara had been… unremarkable. It blended in amongst the other stones, just like Kara Danvers did herself, and once again Lena was left wondering how to grieve two completely different people.

In the end, it didn’t matter. Lena had knelt down in the cold earth and cried for whoever it was in there that she had loved so much.)

“How dare you,” Alex seethes, barreling forwards. “How dare you not show up after everything-”

“And now you’re here to what?” Lena interjects, hating that she’s about to get into a full-fledged fight with Alex yet too stubborn to back down. “Break my nose? Throw me in prison?” she asks, half expecting Alex to take inspiration from the sarcasm. If there was one thing that defined Alex Danvers down to her core, it was that there was nothing she wouldn’t do for her sister. If that involved violating DEO protocol to bring the hammer down on Lena Luthor, then so be it.

“I’m here to find out why you’re abandoning the only people who care about you anymore!” Alex shouts, and Lena has to physically restrain herself from balling her hands into fists. She lets out a long breath through her nose instead, making Alex wait in silence while she gathers her thoughts— and tries to summon up some patience. With Alex Danvers, that will take a miracle.

Lena knows she has a part to play now, and she embraces it. “That’s no longer your concern.”

“Do you really not care that you missed your best friend’s funeral?”

“Not really. I’d imagine it’s all for the best,” Lena lies, her throat beginning to burn with it. It isn’t that she doesn’t care, not at all; it’s because she cares so much. She’d put all of her weight behind caring for Kara Danvers; now the world feels like it’s ending every day in front of her eyes, and there’s nothing she can do but turn away and hope there won’t be too many scars left behind.

Alex takes a step back, looking like she can’t fully comprehend the words coming out of Lena’s mouth, much less the polite indifference behind them. She stares over at her like she’s starting to see the danger behind Lena’s last name again, and Lena just stares back, and wonders how many more pushes it will take before Alex Danvers gives up on her completely. 

This has always been how Lena grieves— how a Luthor grieves. She can remember confiding to Kara, once, that loss does strange things to her family— and that she’s lost a lot of people. That she’s afraid of the person she might be when the numbness starts to wear off, and she glances over to find what wreckage she’s left in her wake.

(Kara had looked Lena in the eye and lied. “You’re not going to lose me,” she’d said, and now Lena wonders if she’d really meant it, or if Kara Danvers was just an expert at making promises she couldn’t keep.)

Alex is grieving too— and when she finally pulls herself together, there’s no more cushioning behind her words. “Cut the bullshit, and don’t say something you regret. You’re just making yourself more and more alone.”

“I’m okay with that,” Lena says, and she’s so tired she could scream.

But Alex isn’t done; her eyes take on a cruel glint, so hot Lena swears she could see sparks in them, and she keeps going. “Kara wouldn’t be,” she says, practically spitting, and Lena swallows hard, knowing the other woman is past the niceties. “And I know how much that matters to you, seeing as you built your entire life here around her.”

Alex must be at the point in her grieving where she feels willing to weaponize Kara’s memory and swing it at whoever she wants. Even her name cuts Lena deep, and she resents Alex for it.

“Don’t. Don’t do that,” she warns, but Alex’s eyes just flash brighter.

“You didn’t hate her. You were in love with her,” the other woman snarls, and had Lena not been so angry it would have been heartbreaking to see the realization finally cross Alex’s face. “God, all this time… and you still treated her like a piece of shit.”

“Fuck you,” Lena says, no poise left in her.

“Why didn’t you just tell-”

“What does it matter now? She’s _dead_ ,” Lena says, and she laughs humorlessly; she doesn’t have the energy or the mercy to take the high road right now, and if Alex is playing dirty, Lena can roll up her sleeves and dive in the mud too, even if her words hurt her just as much.

“Shut up,” Alex snaps back, newfound fury in her voice. “Of all the ungrateful, arrogant, cold people for my sister to...” She stops suddenly, defying logic, but Lena eggs her on.

“No, please, keep going. I know you’ve been wanting to tell me what you’ve really thought of me for years.”

“I won’t do that to her. She actually wanted me to look after you. Can you believe that?” Alex’s voice is unnaturally high and tight, but proud. Lena wants to laugh when she doubles back almost immediately. “You know, she did _everything_ for you, Lena. She bent over backwards to try and give you a family, a home... even just an ounce of kindness. And this is how you repay her? All because you can’t let go of your hard feelings?”

“It wasn’t real,” Lena mutters, more to herself than anyone else. Maybe if she says it enough, it will actually be true. “And I won’t get hung up on something that was nothing but lies.”

Alex gestures to the nearly overflowing glass of booze balancing precariously on the edge of Lena’s desk. “Clearly, you’re coping just fine.”

“Like you can talk,” Lena snaps back, and for a moment, she appreciates the mirror images that the two of them make. Supergirl’s sister and her supposed best friend, both going down the same fiery, destructive path of grief. Kara probably would have wanted them to navigate it together, but Kara’s dead and Lena’s a coward, so there’s no point in it anyway.

“At least I’m not doing it alone!”

“I’m just doing what you always expected of a Luthor, anyway.” Lena folds her hands neatly on her desk and tries to remember what it feels like to be in control. Alex continues to glare, her eyes red, but Lena makes certain her eyes are dry. She won’t give Kara’s sister a reason to pity her. “We’re better off on our own. Everyone else is just… a distraction.”

“I know you’re not heartless, Lena,” Alex says, and the way her jaw clenches reminds Lena so much of Kara that she reaches for her glass on instinct, just to have something to hold onto. “You care. It’s not a weakness to grieve.”

“Maybe not to you.” Lena shrugs and studies her nails. “But I’ve got a life to get on with. If that means cutting ties, then so be it.”

Alex goes quiet, and when Lena makes the mistake of glancing up, the other woman seems caught between anger and sadness. Not on Kara’s account, however— no, Lena is appalled to realize that it’s _her_ that Alex seems so crushed by.

For the briefest moment, Lena lets herself remember Alex as more than just an extension of Kara. They’d been friends, once upon a time. Good ones.

(Then again, Lena’s never managed to keep one of those for very long. People like Alex— like Kara— never last.)

“You’re tearing down everything my sister built for you, and it makes me sick to my stomach what she’d think,” she tells Lena, taking the truth and hurling it with all her might. Lena’s breath hitches, and the other woman claims her victory. Alex’s face twists into something between a sneer and a sob. “She never gave up on you. Not once. And she died to give you a second chance. So grow up, and go figure yourself out, before you lose the only real family you’ve ever had.”

Lena looks away and goes for Alex’s throat. “You’re just your sister’s keeper. That’s all you know how to be, isn’t it?” Her lip curls, a snarl of her own appearing unbidden. “What are you supposed to do now that she’s gone?”

She feels horrible as soon as the words slip out of her mouth, and even as tough as Alex is, she can’t mask the impact that they have on her. Her mouth drops open and she flinches, as if Lena had actually struck her— though Kara’s death can be felt so tangibly between the two of them that she may as well have. 

Lena thinks about apologizing, until her brother’s voice echoes in her brain and her face smooths out again. This is supposed to hurt. That’s how she knows it will actually stick.

Alex’s expression grows pinched, and she reaches up and wipes at her eyes just once. “I never thought you to be cruel, Lena. Even if I didn’t always trust you. But I guess a broken heart can turn the best of people into something unrecognizable.”

Lena doesn’t know what to say, and for once in her life, she fights the urge to fake it and say something anyway. She stays silent, and little by little Alex’s face softens. As much as it ever will again, Lena supposes— losing Kara has carved edges into her sister that won’t ever go away.

“I’m sorry,” Alex says, though if Lena is honest for herself, an apology isn’t deserved. Not when she and Alex have been trading barbs with equal ferocity, and Lena knows that Alex is only trying to do what she thinks Kara would have wanted. “I find it harder to be gentle nowadays. That was always her thing, anyway.”

Alex’s bottom lips quivers, and for the first time since this all started, Lena wonders if she should embrace the other woman. Maybe Alex is looking for comfort too. 

Not from Lena, though. No, Lena has never been suited for that kind of compassion. It takes strength to help another person grieve, and Lena won’t be that for Alex. Not when she can barely carry on herself, pinching together the split ends of her heart and holding back the pain pushing and clawing at her insides. 

“Lena,” she says— to Lena’s shock, in a soft enough tone that alarm bells start ringing in her head. Alex is going to swallow her pride and try to be understanding when Lena certainly does not deserve sympathy. “I’m here because I’m worried about you. That’s not- I know that with everything that happened, you… Just, are you okay?” 

Lena sweeps her work off to the side, unable to avoid the conversation any longer. “I’m fine,” she says, sticking to her apathetic approach and silently begging Alex to take the hint. “Stocks are looking up, and I’m told the new espresso machine in the break room is a hit.”

Alex normally appreciates Lena’s droll sense of humor, but the other woman looks anything but amused now. She crosses her arms, moving closer towards the desk, and Lena feels shaky, feels like Alex is about to force something terrible and true out of her.

“I’m fine, Alex,” Lena repeats, even as Alex shakes her head.

“I know Lex talked to you.”

Lena feels like the air has been sucked out of the room. Lex is her problem now, and hers alone. She can’t have another person get engulfed by the violent tailspin that is her brother’s re-entrance into her life, won’t allow another well-meaning Danvers sister to try and protect her, because Lex has already taken enough from them. Besides, where Alex goes, J’onn and Brainy and Nia and what’s left of Kara’s family follows. If Lena isn’t careful, her brother will get the pick of the litter to hurt.

She doesn’t bother asking how Alex found out— the other woman has always had a knack for knowing things she shouldn’t— just sighs, reaches up and pinches the bridge of her nose. Lena is well past the pleasant part of being drunk, and she can feel a wave of nausea rising steadily. “He did,” she says. “Right after- once we got back.”

“What did he want with you?” Alex asks, and Lena supposes she should be grateful that the question isn’t laced with any suspicion towards her, should be thankful that no matter how they’d been treating each other, Alex still regarded her as a trustworthy person. Lena hadn’t known if that goodwill would last now that Kara wasn’t there to defend her.

“The usual,” she replies with a wry shrug. “He brought up world domination, and how I was a disappointment to the family name. He talked about…” Her face blanches, and Lena cuts herself off sharply. There’s no sense in reliving the things Lex had said about Kara, least of all in front of her sister. “He just likes to twist the knife. It’s more dramatic than anything else.”

“Twisting the knife, huh?” Alex takes a step forward, then stops. Lena tries not to feel like she’s being boxed in.

“I should have told you,” Lena acknowledges after a beat, feeling very small all of the sudden. She can picture Lex’s sneering face, can see him lurking in the shadows even now. “I know that I’m the last person you’d want to work with now… after-” she stops herself again before she can bring up Kara, just like Alex has been doing. It’s an unspoken dance, and both of them play their parts well. “But I want him caught as badly as you. I’m going to find him,” she says, injecting some genuine venom into her words. “But I’m going to do it alone. There’s less of- of a danger, that way.”

Alex says nothing— just studies Lena from her spot across the desk. It’s quiet enough that Lena can hear the seconds tick by, can hear Jess pacing around outside, can hear her own heart pounding hard against her ribcage. Alex, ever the scientist, dissects Lena with just her eyes, and Lena hates that she’s probably learning whatever she wants. 

“Lena, it wasn’t your fault,” Alex says again, as if that can somehow make it true.

“I don’t understand,” she evades, playing dumb.

Alex takes a breath. “What Lex did… it isn’t your fault.”

“And how is that consequential?” Lena asks, crossing her legs and having half a mind to log back into her laptop and respond to some emails— anything to stop the uneasy feeling in her gut as Alex stares holes into her. 

“You didn’t know what he was planning,” Alex continues, even as Lena’s eye twitches. She can’t understand how Alex can say that when they were both subjected to Lex’s taunts. Alex had heard Lex proudly declare his intentions to his sister, had practically sketched out his blueprints in front of her. “You- you couldn’t have known what he was going to do to her.”

Lena can’t believe that Alex’s words are genuine when she knows as well as Lena does that she did know what was going to happen— she just didn’t stop it.

Lena doesn’t engage with Alex’s new topic of conversation; she taps her fingers against where they’re circled around her arm, and tries to approach this like any difficult business meeting. “I can handle Lex. I’m not afraid of him,” she says. “Why should I be?”

“Because your brother won’t hesitate to kill you as soon as he’s bored of you,” Alex says. “And,” she added, “There’s the matter of him being a deranged lunatic who is on the loose and loves to hold a grudge.”

“However cruel my brother has been to me,” Lena answers, swallowing down the sourness in her throat as she thinks of Lex lurking around this very office, “he means me no real harm. I’m far more concerned about what he wants with the people around me.” She pauses, realizing that what she said had veered into the line circled around personal, and she refuses to cross it. “That is,” she says quickly, correcting her course, “what he can do in a world without Supergirl to protect it.”

Alex’s eyes refocused on her own with renewed interest, and Lena can’t help but feel like she’s thrown out a scent that Alex has just sniffed out. “If he really wants to ruin your life, your brother probably wants to see you miserable. Alone. I’d imagine he’d be even more murderous than usual if he knew you were still getting support from your friends— and I know how much he likes to saddle you with the guilt.” Lena’s face crumpled for a millisecond— it was impossible to stop, as Alex brought back all the ghastly images of what Lex had done to Kara— and what he could to everyone else Lena had ever loved— and Alex let out a deep breath, not missing it.

“Lena,” she says softly, a strange, sad look on her face. “Tell me your brother didn’t scare you into doing something stupid.”

“I don’t think that word has ever been used to describe me,” Lena says, even as she shrinks into her chair, feeling her neck heat up. “It certainly doesn’t apply now.”

“Let me start using it then,” Alex says. “For someone so smart, you sure can be stupid sometimes— especially when it comes to the people you care about.”

“Clever,” Lena said. “But way off base.”

“So your brother isn’t the reason you’ve been avoiding all of us?” Alex asks, and Lena knew she was good, knew that she interrogated con artists as part of her day job, but Lena had honestly thought herself a better liar than this. “Lex isn’t the reason why you felt too guilty to come to your best friend’s funeral?”

“Alex,” Lena warned. “Of course not.”

“And if I don’t believe you?”

“Then it’s none of your business anyway, so I suppose you’ll just have to move on.’

Alex laughed, but if it’s supposed to lighten the room, it doesn’t work. “It is my business when it comes to Kara, and the people who I’d like to think are my friends. And since I’m pretty sure your brother manipulated you into self-destructing out of some misplaced sense of remorse, I’d say you aren’t as _fine_ as you keep saying you are.”

Lena works hard to keep herself composed, even as Alex makes her way over to the other side of the desk and drags a chair with her, obliterating what’s left of Lena’s personal space. She bristles automatically— straightens her spine into prep school posture; she only knows one way to get out of emotionally-compromising situations, and that’s by maintaining her professionalism at all costs. Alex raises a brow at the upturned tilt to Lena’s chin and the way her knuckles are drawn taut against her skin, as if she can see right through her. 

“Unbelievable,” Lena says, narrowing her eyes at the expectant, almost smug look on Alex’s face, like she has it all figured out. Alex doesn’t know the half of it, and Lena is going to keep it that way. “You know, it might go against my DNA, Director, but I do mean what I say. And what gives you the right to march in here and think you can psychoanalyze me to death about it?”

“Lena-”

Lena takes a breath, immediately regretting the formalities, the detachment in her words, doesn’t like the way Alex stiffens at them, but she can do nothing but forge ahead. It’s like watching a seven-car pile-up in slow motion, but Lena can’t look away.

“You want to know the truth? I did want to make things work with your sister. But sometimes, people don’t get fairytale endings. Sometimes, some differences are irreconcilable. Sometimes, you have to get out while you can.” Lena can feel genuine anger flooding into her words and welcomes it. “I let all of you in. I thought you liked me, at least enough to respect my decisions. I should’ve known that as soon as I did something that wasn’t perfectly in line with _your_ version of how I should behave, you’d turn on me.” 

“That’s not fair,” Alex interjects, actually sounding hurt as she tries to meet Lena’s eyes.

“Maybe. But you haven’t treated me any better.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” Alex echoes again, sadder this time, and Lena finally cracks. She slams her hands down hard enough on her desk to make the other woman jump, her computer and stray papers crashing to the floor.

 _Yes it is_ , she wants to say. _I’ve ruined all of our lives,_ she should tell Alex. Instead, she takes a deep breath and fixes Alex with her best polite smile— fake, and impersonal, and leaving no room for anything genuine to sneak in. 

“I think it would be best if you left, Director Danvers,” she says, and by some miracle, Alex actually listens. “I will help you find Lex. I will do whatever I have to fix what he did, but don’t expect anything more.”

“Fine. Live in denial for all I care-” Alex says, and it’s a challenge, but Lena is far past allowing her to continue this conversation any longer.

“That’ll be all for today. I can have my assistant schedule a sit down with you and whoever else you want to bring in on this, but if you’ll excuse me, I’m afraid that I have a rather pressing meeting with some members of my board.” 

Lena stands up, hoping her outward appearance matches the level of aloofness she’s trying to convey in her voice. Alex seems appropriately cowed, keeping her mouth shut and not trying to push as Jess comes in to usher her out. But as she leaves, Alex turns around and looks at Lena one last time.

“You don’t have to do this alone, Lena. You’re family, whether you like it or not, and I’m sick and tired of losing that.”

It’s the kind of impassioned, cliched thing that not many people can say and have it come off as genuine, but unfortunately for Lena, the Danvers sisters both have a knack for it. The door closes, and Lena is left with the weight of her actions, digging heavier and heavier into her shoulders by the day. 

And she can’t help but think of Kara, then, and remember how much pain was wrapped neatly behind bright eyes and kind smiles. Lena wondered how much strength a person has to possess to continue to hide it that way.

Lena knows she doesn’t have it in her.

… 

It’s barely an hour later when she’s standing at Alex’s door, hand raised and ready to knock, as it’s been for the past ten minutes. 

Lena feels… stuck. Alex’s words from earlier are still floating around her mind, and try as she might she can’t forget them. Even if they’d been said in anger and grief and desperation, they had still been the truth, and Alex had seen right through her. 

She isn’t very good at being lonely anymore. 

Still, she hesitates, weighing the two choices, making a list of pros and cons, considering the risks and the benefits, like she would approach a strategic move at a board meeting or in a chess match. She can walk away, and never look back— or she can knock on the door.

On one hand, she knows what Kara would have wanted. Kara would want her to seek out a friend. She’d want her to grieve in a healthy, _normal_ way— and she would also want to make sure her best friend and her sister didn’t hate each other. Alex had been right; Kara wouldn’t have wanted Lena to throw away all of the friendships she’d helped her find, and Lena finds that she doesn’t really want to do that either, 

(She should probably be upset about the fact that Kara still has such a hold over her, but there are worse ways to mourn than to have Kara Danvers guiding her sense of morality.)

The problem is that Lena also wonders what Kara would do if she was in Lena’s situation. If she knew that any slip, any surrender, any decision to seek out a friend could result in Lex hurting someone else. Lena knows what Kara would do, because she was self-sacrificing and noble to a fault. Kara would do absolutely anything to keep others safe, even if it was at her own expense. In a battle between her wants and the needs of others, Kara proved rather definitively that her desires came last. 

Maybe that’s the person who Lena should aspire to be. But she has always been more selfish than selfless, and she was always going to let Kara down in the end, so she takes a breath and knocks just once.

Kelly opens the door. 

“Lena!” she says quietly, carefully, already glancing over at her shoulder to where Alex must be. Lena swallows hard and stares down at her shoes, because even meeting Kelly’s eyes seems a herculean task right now— and if she can’t even do that, she doesn’t know how she’s going to talk to Alex.

“Hi. I hope I’m not interrupting anything,” Lena says rigidly, though there’s no tremble to be found. If there’s one positive to be found from being raised a Luthor, it’s that she can survive most social interactions like they’re muscle memory, even if her heart is pounding and her palms are sweaty. 

Kelly is kinder than she has any right to be, and she ushers Lena inside without hesitation, placing a gentle hand on her back. Lena’s shoulders tense, and Kelly removes it with a smile, understanding. Always understanding. “Not at all,” she says, even as she sends a cautious look around the corner. “You’re always welcome here.”

Lena swallows down hard against the lump in her throat, because she can’t figure out why this woman who she hardly knows can still bring her such comfort. Lena doesn’t know Kelly, even though she dated James off and on for a year and had been around her plenty of times before… before all of this. Kelly Olsen is a good, warm person, but she shouldn’t make Lena want to cry.

If she didn’t know before, she does now; Lena is not the same person she was, and it’s all Kara Danvers’ fault.

The other woman clears her throat, looks at Alex across the room again. Lena doesn’t bother glancing up to see what they’re wordlessly communicating, just knows it’s about her and it’s about _Kara_ and she probably doesn’t deserve to know anymore. 

“I’m… I’m going to give you two some space,” Kelly says at last, nodding her head with a sense of finality. Like she’s just decided something and Alex and Lena are going to have to deal with it. She walks back around the corner. Lena can see her lean over the back of the couch, can hear her murmur something in Alex’s ear, and it feels so horribly domestic that she wants to turn and run. But before she can, Kelly is back, her jacket in hand, giving Lena one last smile she doesn’t deserve and opening the door. “Lena, it’s really good to see you. If either of you need anything, just call.”

Then Kelly leaves, before Lena can blurt out that this was all a big mistake and that she’d be leaving now, thank you very much, and instead she is left in silence and an apartment that doesn’t feel as empty as it should.

Lena doesn’t want to look at Kara’s favorite takeout menus still pinned to the fridge. She doesn’t want to recognize shoes that she knows are Kara’s, or her coats shoved way in the back of Alex’s closet. She doesn’t want to notice the hundred small details in this room alone that remind her of that person in the rubble, that name in the graveyard. But then the light shines off of an old framed photo of Kara and Alex with their arms around each other on the steps of their porch in Midvale, and Lena knows that it’s impossible to forget Kara in a place like this.

She hadn’t realized how lucky she was that her penthouse was mostly devoid of Kara’s presence. She’d thought her office was bad enough, with that large balcony and that damned couch and the pictures overturned on her desk, but this is so much worse. Alex is trapped in a place so stained with Kara Danvers that Lena doubts it will ever come out.

Lena understands a little better why, even though she still has friends and family to turn to, Alex had seemed so lonely earlier. Living with a ghost is no better than seeing it everywhere you look.

Alex is curled up on the couch when Lena finally makes her way past the front door. The TV is on but muted, and while Lena doesn’t recognize the movie playing, she knows it’s one of Kara’s favorites. _Was_ one of her favorites. For someone who always went to great lengths to remain strong for the sake of others, Alex seems fragile now. Volatile, however, less of someone who is easily bruised and more a jagged piece of glass, ready to cut. Lena wonders if this is her fault, or if it’s Kara’s— or maybe it’s both. Maybe Alex Danvers is mad at the world, and she finally has a reason to show it.

“Back for more?” Alex asks, breaking the quiet at last, and Lena knows she’s drunk just from the way the words roll too slow off her tongue. She supposes that it’s only fair that their roles are reversed this time around— that Alex doesn’t have to be sober for a confrontation like this. Not that Lena is either. The drink she had on the car ride over puts her and Alex on equal ground, for the first time in a while. 

“No. Not really. Maybe.” Lena sighs and walks halfway to the living room, clutching her purse and hesitating halfway. If she does this, it becomes real. “Can I join you?”

“I’m surprised you’re here,” Alex says in reply, but her posture relaxes somewhat, and when her eyes drop down to the empty seat next to her, Lena takes the hint. 

“So am I.” She sits down gingerly, careful to put plenty of space between them. She doubts either one of them wants to get any closer. 

Lena knows she should say something. She knows she should. She’s the one that showed up out of the blue, after all, and she’s the one that probably _should_ say something. But she can’t; the words don’t materialize, much less come out of her mouth, and she remains frozen, perched on the couch and unable to do anything but stare blankly at the black and white images flashing in the dark from the television.

It’s Alex who takes the leap again, though it seems like she doesn’t even notice the tension in the room, or maybe she just doesn’t care. “Do you believe in life after death?” she asks Lena— facing towards the television even as Lena looks over at her, caught off guard.

“I…” Lena hesitates, not sure what Alex wants to gain from this conversation. She’d come over to… she doesn’t really know what for, if she’s being honest, but it wasn’t to discuss the afterlife. “From a scientific perspective?”

Alex rolls her eyes, like that was exactly what she’d expected her to say. She finally looks over, and Lena knows that Alex isn’t after a detached, analytic conversation. “No, Lena. I’m not asking if it’s provable. Do you _believe_ in it?”

“I don’t know,” Lena says, evasive, because she has a feeling she knows why Alex is asking and doubts she’ll give the right answer. “I’ve never really thought about it.”

That’s a lie, of course, and Alex knows it but she doesn’t hold it against her. She just sits up straight and presses forward. “It’s okay,” she says, too gentle. Like she’s giving Lena permission to say something that could hurt her. “Tell me.”

“No,” Lena says at last, simply, and she means it. “I don’t believe there is.”

Heaven and Hell or any other ideal that religion created for people to cling onto has never carried much weight for her— not when living has always come with such a strong sense of duty. 

Lena is no good to anyone dead— and although there are times she doubts she’s good to anyone alive either, she knows that much is true. Lena can’t use her resources to improve lives, can’t attempt to change the course of her company— can’t do her best to make up for the sins of her family— if she’s dead and buried. So no, she doesn’t think there’s life after death; even if there was, she knows it would be meaningless for someone like her. The only people who leave a legacy after death are the people who were larger than life— people like her brother or people like Kara, and Lena isn’t sure which camp she falls into. 

“She did,” Alex says in reply, and it breaks Lena’s heart because _of course_ Kara did. If Lena had lost that much, seen so much death and destruction as Kara had, then maybe she would too. It’s better than waiting for nothingness— better knowing that the people you love aren’t really gone. 

Lena wishes more than anything that she believed like Kara.

“To be honest, she… she never talked about it much,” Alex continues, looking scared, but resolute. Like Lena’s small bit of honesty is enough. “But I know she did. When her aunt died, she recited the burial rites from memory, like she’d never forgotten them— like she’d held them so close to her heart for years and years, and she needed them to be true.”

Lena clears her throat, prays that she’s not asking something she shouldn’t. “What did she believe would happen?”

“That she would enter Rao’s light,” Alex says. “That even in death, she would not find any darkness.” She looks over at Lena, her face hidden by shadow. “She hoped that she’d find some peace, I think. Kara didn’t want any more pain.”

Her voice hitches, and Lena swallows, reaching out a careful hand that lands on the cushion between them. She doesn’t know what to do— doesn’t know how to empathize when Kara had never even mentioned Rao to her, had never told her anything about her world or culture or convictions. Lena had never given her the chance to.

“Alex-” 

“I want, _so_ badly, to believe like she did. I want to remain faithful to her and her- her _hope,_ ” Alex says, her words brittle, her voice hollow. “But I’m not sure I can. And if you’re right, and there really is nothing waiting for us— for her— then it kills me. Because I think she died waiting for that peace. And what if she never got it?”

“If anyone earned it, it was her,” Lena responds, because there’s nothing else to say. The fears Alex is voicing now are exactly the thoughts that have been keeping her up at night— her belief in the fact that Kara died cold, and alone, and she shouldn’t have, because Kara doesn’t deserve oblivion. “And I hope I’m wrong,” she whispers. “I’ve never wanted to be wrong more.”

“It’s unfair,” Alex says, and Lena gives her a sad, understanding smile.

“It’s the kind of thing that makes me want to burn the world down,” she says, whispers it almost like a confession, and she waits for Alex to stiffen, to tighten her jaw and tell her that she’s no better than her brother, but the other woman just laughs. It’s as genuine as it is caustic, but its heat isn’t aimed at her.

“I get the feeling,” she says, and Lena can’t help but chuckle too. Two of the people closest to Supergirl— the Director of the DEO and Lex Luthor’s sister— idly discussing bringing about the end of the world is enough to help Lena find the humor in the absurdity. 

Alex’s laughter fades and she looks over at her clearly for the first time, and the room returns to its silence. However morbid, Alex’s questions have actually put Lena at ease, in a sense. Not comfortable, by any means— but more willing to confront what she set out to confront.

“Look,” she starts, not the measured, collected Lena Luthor that Alex is used to seeing, but someone very unsure— but wanting to try all the same. “I need to apologize. I shouldn’t have said what I did. It was thoughtless, and out of line, and... you were right. It was cruel, what I did, and you don’t deserve to hurt any more than you already are, and-”

“Lena,” Alex interrupts, holding up a hand to stop her from saying anything more. “It’s okay. I forgive you.” 

_Oh._ Lena blinks, a little nonplussed at how lenient Alex is acting. “You do?” she asks, just to be sure, and when Alex gives her a slight nod, she jerks, makes to stand up. This is as far as she’d rehearsed this interaction going; with the other woman being so forgiving, Lena doesn’t know what else there is to say. “Okay. Well, then, perhaps I should be leaving-”

“Was I right?” Alex questions, and Lena stutters to a stop. She should have known it wouldn’t be that simple. “About Lex?”

Lena takes a deep breath. She _really_ doesn’t want to do this, not when it’s on Alex’s turf, not when she’s already made herself vulnerable. “It’s nothing, Alex. You don’t need to get involved in my mess.”

“I can help,” Alex replies, immediate, firm. “Let me help you.”

Even saying that is a mistake, Lena knows, because Alex Danvers can’t help but meddle. She learned it from her sister, or maybe Kara learned it from her, but either way, the Danvers sisters had a reputation for offering assistance to anyone who needed it— even at their own expense. For a moment, Lena feels a flash of anger, of fear; doesn’t Alex realize that this is exactly what got her sister killed? She doesn’t need another good person with a savior complex on her conscience, and she doesn’t want more blood on her hands.

“I need to do it alone,” she says, grits it out between clenched teeth. This feels so familiar to their argument in her office that Lena gets a sense of deja vu, except this time Alex isn’t angry— or at least it’s better concealed. She’s calm, instead, matter of fact and determined to jump over whatever objections Lena throws her way. “I killed him last time without anyone else. I can do it again. I _will_ do it again.”

Alex’s face darkens, but she doesn’t react to Lena promising murder; right now, she’s not a federal agent but a grieving sister, and Lena supposes that out of anyone, Alex would understand, maybe even want to pull the trigger herself. “And what if he hurts you?” she asks, and Lena can hear the concern in her voice and hates it. Irrationally, she feels the prick of tears, and curses Alex for her kindness that reminds Lena so much of Kara.

“Better me than you,” Lena mumbles, and Alex lets out a long-held sigh, runs a hand down her face and stares over at Lena like she’d been waiting for her to say that.

“Don’t say something like that.”

“It’s true-” Lena objects, still quiet, and when Alex cuts her off again it’s sharper, fierce.

“No it is _not,_ ” Alex says. It’s loud compared to the relative quiet they’ve found themselves wading through all evening, and Alex looks shocked by the volume for a moment— like she’s ashamed of it. But then she meets Lena’s eyes even as Lena is making a concerted effort to look away, and the power in her voice matches the intensity painted on her face. “I won’t let you think like that. I won’t let you fool yourself into believing that- that you deserve it, somehow.” She curls up her fists, looks like she did way back when J’onn had to drag her off of Kara’s body. “That’s what she thought, that it was her _responsibility_. And all it did was get her killed, so no. Not you too.”

For the first time, Lena wonders if it isn’t her that Alex is so furious at. Maybe she isn’t just raging against the world. Maybe, Alex is mad at her sister and what she left her with— so, so angry, with nowhere to put it but behind her words and her fists. 

“Okay,” Lena whispers, heartbroken but strangely touched. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologize,” Alex says, and takes in another deep breath. When she releases it she looks calmer, but more tired— with more shadows lining her face. She grabs a pillow and holds it tight to her chest, just like Kara. Lena looks away and wishes she could stop seeing shades of Kara every damn minute of the day. “I’m just trying to look after you,” Alex says, and Lena knows what she’s going to say next, wishes she won’t because she’s been on the verge of tears since she walked in here and- “It’s what she asked me to do.”

“What are you talking about?” Lena asks with a wet laugh, and she realizes belatedly that the tears she’s been trying so hard to hide have already begun to pool in her eyes. Her vision grows blurry, but Alex stays in focus.

Alex gives her a small mercy by looking away, lost in thought. “Kara told me once, that if anything ever happened to- if she couldn’t, then she wanted me to be there for you. She wanted to make sure you always had a friend.”

“What? Why- when did she say that?”

“I don’t know, a few months ago? But it’s always been an unspoken thing.” Alex frowns, and turns more to face her, a hesitant look on her face. “Kara... was many things. Not all of them were good. I know she hurt you, Lena,” Alex says, and regret passes over her face as well. “I know we all did. But she did love you. She cared about you more than I’ve seen her care about anything in her whole life.”

Lena laces her fingers together, looks anywhere and everywhere but at Alex. There’s that bitter, heartbroken, cold part inside of her that wonders why, if Kara cared about her so much, did Lena not find out the truth until it was too late. Why then, did Kara choose to surrender herself for the sake of the world— why she chose the bleak vastness of the universe over Lena and Alex and her family. She shakes away the thoughts before they slip past her tongue; Lena knows now— has known for awhile— that with Kara, nothing was ever as simple as it seemed.

Even for someone who can be as emotionally unavailable as she is, Lena knows that dwelling in the past isn’t healthy. What’s done is done, and the decisions that Kara made are final, even if it’s everyone else who has to reckon with them. Kara made the heroic sacrifice, and maybe Lena should be proud of her for it, but she isn’t. 

Kara isn’t a selfish person. Lena knows that. Still, she can’t help but dwell on what could have happened, what should have happened, what would have happened if Kara hadn’t felt like the world was hers to carry alone.

Maybe it’s unhealthy, but Lena finds herself wondering about what she _almost_ had all the time.

“She broke my heart,” Lena says, unable to resist the instinct to defend herself, to justify to Alex _why_ all of this has been so difficult for Lena to move past. 

“I know she did,” Alex answers, patient and non-judgemental and Lena’s face heats up because of it. She feels remorse creep in as soon as the words come out of her mouth too sharply; she thinks she tastes blood on her tongue and swallows.

“But I was horrible to her. When we fought, I said things to her just to see her cry. And I... I just watched. I felt _so_ cold, but I wanted to see her just as hurt as I was.”

Lena holds her breath and waits for Alex to yell, to walk away, to look at her the way she did when in her eyes she was just another Luthor. She waits for Alex to associate her with danger and hatred and violence again, but Alex’s eyes stay wide. They stay serene, and they stay trusting, and Lena really can’t understand why. All she can remember is Lex pulling the switch and the sun bleeding crimson and Alex holding her sister in her arms and the distinct drop in her gut that told Lena that this was all her doing and-

“Why didn’t she hate me?” Lena asks, then gets quieter. She turns to Alex and searches her gaze. “Why don’t you?”

Alex stares back, her eyes narrowing, and Lena prepares herself for whatever is coming. But instead Alex just lets out a breath through her nose, and reaches out and squeezes Lena’s shoulder. “Because it wasn’t your fault, Lena,” she says again, just as she had earlier, but this time, the words finally hit Lena; they wash over her and she can’t tell if they’re offering a way of destruction or rebirth, but they’re consuming all the same.

Lena is a creature of habit, so she does what she always does when faced with a wave of emotion that’s about to break: she turns and she runs, and hopes she won’t drown.

“I don’t know why you keep saying that,” she says, and the water begins to lap at her ankles, rises to her knees. Her throat begins to burn almost in anticipation, and Lena swallows harshly. 

“You think that it’s all yours to carry,” Alex says, unspeakably kind. “Every flaw and mistake, and shortcoming. You strap every single one of your family’s sins to your back and walk around with them all day until you can’t.” Lena opens to her mouth to protest, to snap back, to do _anything_ to derail this, but Alex just raises an eyebrow. “And I know you don’t want me to be your shrink, and I’m not trying to be. You just remind me so much of Kara. I know what you’re like because she did the same thing.”

Lena knows this is true. Logically, she knows that this is a similarity that her Kara have always shared, hoisting the world upon their shoulders and learning to live with it. But Alex shouldn’t put Lena anywhere _close_ to Kara— who did it to protect, and to help, and to save, while Lena knows deep down she only ever did it out of selfishness. Self-preservation is all it is, because there’s no other way for her to earn absolvement.

She tries to tell Alex exactly that, but her words fail her. “I’m not her,” she says, and it sounds too sharp and too keening at the same time, sounds too much of a defense and a confession, sounds like she’s torn between dying to forget Kara and holding on too tightly to her memory. “I mean, I’m not-” She shoots Alex a pleading look, the water well up to her chest by now. “I’m not a hero.”

“You were Kara’s,” is all Alex says. The water surges up above her head, and Lena is pulled under. She begins to cry in earnest now, and it feels like a release, feels like a long time in the making. Lena has cried since Kara died— has cried all the time, really: in her office, in her town car, brushing her teeth, curled up in bed. But this feels different— this is the final crack that bursts the dam, and she is helpless to what’s waiting behind the burst walls.

She had been raised thinking this is a weakness. In the Luthor household, tears simply weren’t tolerated; unless you were cool and calm and above all in control, you weren’t accepted. Lena had learned to keep her sorrow to herself, to turn it inwards and save it for rainy nights when Lillian wouldn’t be able to tell a quiet sob from the rolling thunder outside the windows. Here, there is nowhere to hide, and maybe that’s why Lena feels like she’s spinning blindly towards something unknown.

For the first time in a while, losing control doesn’t seem so terrible. The last time she did she wound up in Kara’s life, and now— now Lena can finally grieve without feeling like she needs to merit it, somehow; maybe, with a friend by her side.

It’s a sentimental thought, and it goes against everything the Luthors taught her. Lena finds herself more relieved for this inevitable breakdown because of that.

“I’m sorry. Alex, I am so, _so_ sorry,” she chokes out, sobs really, and Alex is already there, wrapping an arm around her and pulling her close. No one has hugged Lena like this since before Kara’s death; she hasn’t let anyone get close enough to. Now, Alex’s warmth brings more tears to her eyes, and she leans into her touch on instinct. “I should have stopped him. I should have saved her, I- I would have given _anything_ to save her. I would have taken her place.”

“I know,” Alex soothes, and her voice cracks. “I would have too.”

There’s nothing more that needs to be said, really. Lena cries and Alex does too, and this is probably exactly what Kara would have wanted. She would be so happy to see the two of them, working through their grief together, but while that’s a nice sentiment, all it does is make Lena cry harder because Kara _isn’t_ here. She’s gone— went and gave herself up for the sake of a universe that doesn’t even know her name. She understands why Alex can barely get her name out with how hard she clenches her jaw. Kara is the reason why, and Lena kind of hates her for it. 

Not really, though. Lena is slowly coming to the sad, obvious, entirely unfair realization that she’s never been all that good at hating Kara Danvers, and there’s no reason for her to start now.

Lena breaks away eventually, when the room stops spinning and nothing more substantial than quiet hiccups are escaping her mouth. Her throat is dry, and Alex’s must be as well because after the both of them clear their throat rather painfully and share a sad, timid smile, the other woman stands up. She crosses over to the kitchen on shaky legs and grabs two mugs drying by the sink and fills them with water. Lena accepts the water gratefully, taking a long drink from it while she gathers her thoughts.

She supposes that there’s no point in hiding the truth from Alex anymore. She’d broken the unspoken conditions of her agreement with Lex by simply knocking on the door of a friend; crying with the sister of Supergirl will be even more of a spit in the face when Lex finds out— and he will, Lena doesn’t doubt that. Her brother has always been good about keeping his ear to the ground, especially when it comes to his enemies, and Lena is now very much on her brother’s bad side. At this point, Alex will be in more danger if she’s kept in the dark.

(Besides. Lena doesn’t have it in her to keep hiding any longer.)

“My brother told me to stay away from you,” she says, blaming the way her voice wavers on the fact that she’s just cried herself hoarse and not because the thought of Lex hurting anyone else knocks the breath out of her lungs. “He’s going to find out, and people are going to be in danger because of this. Because of me.”

Alex nods, no hint of ego on her face even though Lena had just confirmed her suspicions. “What do you want to do?”

Lena frowns, caught off guard. She’d expected Alex to go full DEO mode, call in her agents or the army or whatever part of the special ops sector of the government that she held sway over. What she hadn’t expected was for Alex to take a step back and let her take the wheel. “Me?” she asks, and Alex nods again, steel in her eyes.

“You’re the person I trust most to take down Lex.”

“Well, I mean-” Lena falters. She wonders if this is a mistake, if she’s digging Alex’s grave as they speak, because confronting family isn’t something Lena is good at, not without disastrous consequences. “I just don’t want anyone else to- no one else can get hurt, Alex. Maybe it’ll be best if I just-”

“People are waiting to pitch in,” Alex says before Lena can slide in one last comment about how it’s probably better for her to just handle this herself. She must see the flash of panic on Lena’s face, thinking of more people for Lex to toy with because she continues. “Not just our team. Barry, and Sara, Oliver, and all of their friends told me they’d be ready when I needed them.” Alex’s face hardens then. “And... I’ve got a very angry Superman.”

God, this is really going to happen, isn’t it?

Lena bites her lip and prays that this won’t be like the last time her brother and Superman faced off— with Metropolis in anarchy and dozens dead. She prays it won’t be like it was with Kara, because she knows Superman is just as righteous, just as reckless as Kara and if Lena indirectly brings about the deaths of the last Kryptonians then-

 _Pull yourself together. This is for Kara._ She takes a breath. Lena can’t control what will happen anymore than she can change what’s already happened, so she looks at this strategically. She already knew that her odds— their odds— of taking down Lex successfully would rise if she brought in others. But this many? The magnitude of what Alex is offering is nearly overwhelming, but Lena supposes she shouldn’t have anticipated anything less. Kara always had a propensity for making friends— and making the type of friends who would go to the ends of the earth for her in return.

She doesn’t have to run the numbers to know that her brother is going to lose.

“Alright,” she says at last, feeling a new sense of resolve course through her veins. She is going to find Lex, and she’s going to make sure he pays for what he did, and then... 

Well. Lena isn’t sure what she’s supposed to do after that.

“We’re in this together,” Alex says, but she sounds unsure. She looks over at Lena like she still isn’t sure what to make of her, like she’s waiting for her to abandon ship and desert, and Lena can’t really blame her for it. “Right?”

Lena swallows down the bile rising in her throat and smiles. “Yeah, we are.”

As she stands to leave, Lena isn’t sure herself if that’s the truth.

. . .

In the end, it’s terribly easy to catch Lex.

True to Alex’s word, people show up willing to fight. It’s a veritable army of superheroes and civilians alike; if Lena didn’t know any better, she would think that every single person that Kara has ever helped is showing up now to do the same, from the Flash to Nia and Brainy to the everyday people who Supergirl helped retrieve a stolen purse or a lost wallet for.

Lena keeps thinking that it’s a trap, that her brother has pulled the wool over her eyes once again and this time she’s allowing other people to be dragged down with her. But when she catches the look in her brother’s eyes when Superman and Barry and Alex drag him out of the hole he’d been hiding in, she knows it isn’t. Lex only ever looks this angry when he loses, when he doesn’t get his way. It’s always reminded Lena of a little boy getting his toys taken away; she’d called it selfish, likened it to a temper tantrum. Lex had always called it taking back what the world had denied him.

Either way, Lex knows when he’s beaten, just as Lena does. 

Lena doesn’t shoot him, this time. Strangely enough she doesn’t feel the urge to, even if she knows Lex will always pose a threat so long as he’s alive— even if she knows that most of the people here would be more than willing to turn the other way and claim they didn’t see it happen. It’s murky ethics, and Lena is actually glad she isn’t seized by that same need as last time. Maybe it’s because Lex had already taken the most he could have from her, and this is part of the mourning process, more for catharsis than anything else.

And it is cathartic, for a little while. The entire affair is a little over the top and melodramatic for her taste, but Lena can’t deny the pleasant jolt of satisfaction she gets watching her brother be thrown out onto the pavement face first. She crosses her arms and lets the ice glint in her eyes, and Lex’s shoulders sag. Still, there’s a hint of a smirk still on his lips when he stares her down. _Are you happy now?_ He seems to ask, tilting his head and regarding the group of grim superheroes gathered to watch him walk away. _This doesn’t change anything. She’s still gone._

The rush fades, and Lena can’t help but look away. She knows it’s a hollow victory. It’s a triumphant battle to boost morale when Lex had already won the war.

Alex looks over at her with the adrenaline of victory still alight in her eyes, grins at her a little wildly, and it’s so close to how she looked at her years ago, before Lena knew the truth and before Kara died that Lena’s own smile fades just a bit in response. She can’t have Alex smiling at her like her sister isn’t dead, because Kara is still gone and Lex being in handcuffs doesn’t change that. Eventually, Alex won’t smile like that ever, and this time it really will be Lena’s fault because there’s nothing more she can do to make it better.

Lena is left with the hollowed out portion of her chest and the knowledge that there’s no undoing what her brother did. She can’t fix it— unless she can. Maybe she can. And Lena needs to know that she tried everything to make things right before she could ever forgive herself for going back to normal with Alex Danvers and the rest of her friends.

So, she goes off alone again, slips away in the night while the other heroes converge around Alex, give her gentle hugs and hopeful smiles. For them, it’s a step towards healing. For Lena, it’s one last nail in Kara’s coffin, and she won’t watch it get hammered into place.

Not when she has work to do.

When she packs her bags and moves back to Metropolis, it’s on her own terms. This time around, there’s no specter of her family looming quite so forebodingly over her shoulder— and there’s no new hero in a new city for Lena to make a fresh start with. She can still remember National City as it once was to her: unknown and exciting and full of potential to make her own life, forge her own path.

Now, it reminds her a little too much of the girl who used to light it up single-handedly.

So she leaves, a little more certain, a little more steady than she was before but still to the quiet disappointment of Alex and the other people Lena once considered friends. (Who knows what they are to her now. They’re not even sure what they are to _each other_ anymore, without Kara binding them all together.)

She leaves, and buys a night’s stay in an old hotel in Metropolis, and gives control of LCorp over to a reluctant Sam the next morning, who had always been a more capable businesswoman than Lena ever was. Even if Sam places a gentle hand on her arm and looks at her with concern in her eyes, Lena persists. She knows her company and her legacy will be safe in her hands. She stays long enough to wave to Ruby on her way back from school and to get coffee and visit the park where a makeshift memorial to Supergirl has been built. 

Lena smiles at the little girls wearing bedsheets as capes playing tag around the fountain, and watches strangers set down flowers carefully and with trembling fingers, like Supergirl meant more to them than just a streak in the sky. Lena gives herself a moment of reflection in the city she grew up in, the city that she had to run away from, the city that led her, one way or another, to Kara Danvers, and then she moves on.

Lena keeps moving, so much so that it becomes her new mantra. Keeps pushing ahead hoping against hope that maybe someday she’ll stop seeing Kara’s face in the crowd, will stop feeling an unexpected and sharp jab of pain when she sees a curl of golden hair or the flash of blue eyes behind the glasses of a stranger, won’t be hit by a wave of nausea when she hears a laugh that sounds so much like Kara’s that she turns towards the sound automatically.

Not that Lena will ever forget Kara. She just wishes that the world isn’t such an easy place to see reminders of her everywhere she goes.

Another month passes, quicker than ever before, and Lena finally figures out how to track down the Monitor. It takes more time and money and resources than she would have liked, but eventually she manages it. Now her wandering has a destination, and it’s a good thing that Lena owns a handful of private jets because Mar Novu doesn’t stay put in any place for long.

They never speak, though Lena catches a glimpse of him a handful of times, makes certain that he sees her too. She finds him in Peru, and Italy. in Nepal and Australia. She finds him everywhere there are people in trouble— anywhere she has a feeling that Kara would be, if she were still alive. Maybe the man who took away Kara’s life feels more remorse for her loss than Lena had thought. Maybe he’s doing what he can to fill the shoes of someone that Lena knows is impossible to properly imitate.

Lena always raises her hand in greeting, and the Monitor always nods, like he knows exactly what she’s after and isn’t above ignoring her, and that’s all that Lena has to hold onto anymore.

Somewhere along the way, Lena starts to understand the two sides to Kara. Ironic that it’s happening now, when she’s dead and buried and thinking about it only brings a new wave of pain, but Kara’s always on her mind anyway so Lena might as well commit her to memory. Finally, the duality of Kara Danvers and Supergirl starts to make sense. 

It’s the little things that help the most; Lena sees Supergirl in the way Kara Danvers always squared her shoulders, always carried herself with more poise and nobility and _sadness_ than Lena had ever expected her to, always threw herself into danger and placed herself in front of Lena. And Lena sees Kara Danvers in the happy, carefree loops that Supergirl could sometimes be spotted making around National City at sunset, in the way Supergirl would pull out candy from her pockets to give to the girl she saw fall off her bike— sees Kara Danvers in the way Supergirl draped her cape around the homeless man she saw shivering near the docks in the dead of winter and in the way she gave it to him for the night and returned in the morning with two cups of coffee and an offer to help him find someplace to live.

It’s easier to love both sides of Kara now, because Lena can see the humanity in Supergirl and the strangeness, the _loneliness_ in Kara. And while there is lingering hurt— while there are still times when Lena buries her face in her hands and thinks about the harsh way Supergirl’s lip curled when she interrogated her about Kryptonite, or the fact that it was Lex who thought she should know the truth before Kara got the nerve to tell her, Lena finds it a little easier to carry.

She’s not sure she’ll ever truly know who her best friend was because Lena never really got to meet the _real_ Kara, only got tastes and glimpses of her every time her identities bled into one another. Kara Zor-El was more than the sum of her parts, Lena knows.

But she also knows, with a sense of certainty that grows every day, that Kara was someone she would have forgiven, had she been given the chance. She knows that she is still very much in love with the same woman she laughed and cried and danced with, just as she is with the one she’d found in the rubble.

And just for Kara’s sake, and because Lena isn’t really ready to live in a world that isn’t painted by the rays of her brightness, Lena tries to hold onto hope that someday, she’ll get to tell her all of this. 

It isn’t rational, but when it comes to Kara, Lena doesn’t want to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so. I really couldn't resist giving Lena her due, and her perspective is something I've always loved but been a little intimidated to write. I hope it turned out well, and the actual conclusion will be coming shortly (fingers crossed)!
> 
> thanks again to anyone who's stuck with this story. I hope you are all staying safe. as always, kudos and comments are greatly appreciated!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> at long last... the grand finale, and it's a big one! this last chapter goes out to my siblings, who have been fondly nagging me for updates this whole way through.
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

_Who cares what happens now._

_Just keep your hand in mine._

_Your hand feels so grand in mine,_

_Let people say we're in love!_

. . . 

An old friend comes to visit, when Kara is halfway between everything. 

She hasn’t moved from this place in what feels like an eternity. Then again, time seems to pass differently here, so maybe she’s only just arrived.

It’s comfortable here, wherever _here_ is. Kara can’t feel much of anything, anymore, a strange departure from a life in which she felt too much, all of the time, with an intensity that ached. She can drift in and out of awareness, and listen to the stillness of the air, and not worry about the hundreds of billions of sensory signals that used to overwhelm her brain. Supergirl isn’t needed here, and neither is Kara Zor-El.

Here, she simply exists, without any expectations for anything more. 

That’s not to say that there isn’t more out there if she wants to find it. Kara knows that she hasn’t explored what’s next, has been riveted here, to this spot between it all. Voices call out from all sides to her; some happy, some proud, some sad, and some desperate.

It’s getting more and more difficult to recall why she’s stuck here, why she is so reluctant about moving forward, but Kara tries to hold on. There’s a reason why she hasn’t passed on, she knows, even if it’s fading away.

Maybe the man taking a seat beside her will have the answers she’s searching for.

“It’s been a long time, Kara Zor-El,” he says, and something about the way he says it helps Kara to remember.

“I thought I told you to call me Kara,” she answers, and Mar Novu smiles over at her gently. The armor is gone, replaced by a simple tunic and pants. His heavy metal boots are nowhere to be seen, and Mar reclines back. He doesn’t look as tired, anymore. Still sad, maybe, but less burdened or guilty. Like he’s been waiting for something for a very long time, and it’s finally within his reach. 

They sit there for a while, neither one feeling the need to carry on a conversation. Kara is content to sit with this blurry figure from the past. She could ask who he is, or why she remembers him so clearly when everything else seems cast in a fog, but she doesn’t. He seems to be at peace up here, and far be it from Kara to take that from him.

“I’m dead,” she says, looking over at the man for confirmation. Kara has never been sure of what dying would be like, but if this is it… it isn’t so bad. “I didn’t think it would feel this way.”

Mar just smiles, seemingly in agreement, and Kara laces her fingers together and stays silent.

“You did it, you know,” he comments eventually. Whether it’s minutes or hours later, Kara isn’t sure. “Everything worked out alright, thanks to you. They’re all safe.”

Flashes of memory flit through Kara’s mind— an endless, starry sky, a burning city, and then pouring rain, jagged bolts of lightning. An enemy taking its last breath. A red sun, reflecting off the symbol she wears on her chest even up here.

(Kara can’t recall what the red and gold means, but knows in her soul that it must mean something important. And if it’s right over her heart, she must hold it very dear indeed.) 

“I’m glad,” she says, even if she doesn’t quite grasp the weighty significance of his words. She is glad, however; if she helped someone, then she’s happy. Kara tilts her head back, revels in the stretch of her muscles. Something tells her that she isn’t used to feeling something so simple as a fatigued body. It feels novel, and it makes the feeling easy to slip into.

He turns to look over at her, his lips twitching into something pleasant and amused, like he knows something she doesn’t. “That’s it?” he asks, spreading his legs out further until he’s laying down completely. Mar chuckles at her ensuing shrug. “I would’ve thought you’d be full to the brim with questions.”

“A few, maybe.” She joins him on the ground, tucking her arms behind her head and cushioning her neck. There are scars on her body that seem unfamiliar— thin, silvery lines along her forearms, and little dents notched into her back. The largest one is right under her heart. Maybe she could ask about those, but she doesn’t see the point. “You already answered the most important one. Besides, I’ll just forget the rest anyway.”

“Ah, I see. You’ve forgotten so much. I wonder what’s still there.”

“You are, if you can believe it,” she says. Mar smiles, surprised, and Kara smiles back. Everything feels better between them, like whatever happened came to pass. Like they’re each free now, in their own way. “I can remember parts of a battle. It seems I was some sort of hero, whatever happened. I was, wasn’t I?” she asks, just making sure.

“The best of them,” Mar agrees, easing something inside of Kara that she didn’t realize was there. “And what else? _Who_ else?”

He says it like he can’t believe that Kara hasn’t brought it up already, the flashes of remembrance that tug at her heart and make her feel something almost like pain. An ache, perhaps; something pleading and longing, deep inside of her, older than anything else she remembers. It’s like it’s branded into her very bones, the pull of whatever— no, _whoever_ — she left behind.

“I- they’re there, somewhere. It’s hard.” Kara closes her eyes and thinks hard, dredging up familiar glimpses. She can almost cry with just the thought of them. “Sometimes, I wonder if it would be easier to forget.”

“Easier, maybe. But is that really what you want?”

No, it isn’t. Even if she can’t admit it out loud, Kara knows that’s true. So, she wades into the depths of her memories.

There’s a man in blue and red, wearing the same suit as she has on now. Maybe Mar would know what it means. But no, if she looks closer, she can remember more. A different man just like her, not in DNA, but in the way he carried his ghosts, cradled them close to his chest; he’d lost something very dear to him, and Kara knew she had too.

And there are others: a man and a woman by a coastline, taking her hand and staying by her side even as she cried, grieving something immense. A building filled with huge windows that overlooked a city, and a cheerful, funny boy who scurried around with a computer and never failed to make Kara laugh. And another man, taller and with the kindest eyes Kara had ever seen, a camera around his neck and the reputations of others hanging over the both of them. 

She can see an older woman, witty and sharp, and fiercely protective of what she believed in. Somehow, Kara can’t remember why, that woman had decided to believe in her, and she had helped her through when Kara began to doubt herself. Later on, a younger girl appears there too, with a bright, earnest smile that makes Kara wonder why it’s so familiar to herself. A new boy shows up in her memories locked-step with this girl; he was perhaps a little stilted, but if Kara knew one thing, it was that he loved that girl.

Then there is her sister. Kara can’t recall much, but she knows this fact to be true: that the girl who is there the most, from when they were young to now, is her sister. They’re still young— she knows how foolishly, devastatingly young she is— but her sister seems to have been by her side for eternity, through the good and the bad and the even worse.

Kara knows how much they love each other.

_Alex,_ a voice says somewhere in the recesses of her memory, and the emotion behind the name comes pouring back into Kara’s body all at once, and the gaping, aching, hole in her heart suddenly has a reason for existing. 

“I had a family,” she says, the words coming out a little strained and lopsided, and Mar bows his head in acknowledgment. Suddenly, Kara gets the feeling that he knows what that’s like.

“You did.”

“And I did this for them,” she says, stronger now, knowing innately that these people would be her only reason to fight until her last breath. “So they would be safe.”

“They are. No one else was harmed.” A part of Kara’s soul is soothed by those words, and even if she can’t remember everything, can’t remember why it was her that chose this sacrifice, the fact that she prevented any more pain seems like it was worth it, in the end. This must have been her destiny, what she had been living for.

(It must have been worth it, right?)

Things finally make sense. Now, Kara wonders why it feels like something is still missing. There must be a reason why she’s been rooted here to this spot, why she can’t find it in herself to move forwards towards the voices.

Then, even quieter, the voice whispers again. _Lena._

That is a name that means something enormous to her, even if she can’t remember why.

Lena must be the woman who lingers, the one by her side in so many of these memories. She is there next to Alex and smiling over at her across a room full of the others. Kara can remember her bright eyes, and her careful hands, and the determined set to her jaw, and how _warm_ she made Kara feel. Lena means just as much to her as her own sister, but it’s… different, with her. 

There’s a longing that Kara feels, remembering Lena, that she doesn’t feel with the others. Maybe that has something to do with the other memories she has of Lena— the ones that aren’t so kind. 

Kara can’t quite feel pain here, can’t feel much of anything at all, but when she gets a flash of Lena’s tear-stained, heartbroken face, it’s the closest she’s come to hurt. Whatever it is that happened, Kara knows that it was her fault— and that she never got to mend it.

Maybe that’s why she doesn’t feel the peace that she’d always hoped death would bring.

“They’re safe— but are they… okay?” she asks, and this time, Mar can’t bring himself to smile. He lets out a breath through his nose, and Kara tilts her head away so she doesn’t have to see the hesitation on his face.

“You are a very hard person to lose, Kara,” he answers at last. “Though I must admit that I didn’t know you for long, I know that much.”

“And Lena?” Kara says, almost impulsively, but the name feels so natural on her tongue that she reasons that she must have talked about this woman quite a bit. Mar doesn’t seem surprised at all by the name, just looks at her, waiting for the question. 

“Ah, yes. Lena Luthor is more familiar to me than most.” Mar looks over at her with a smile that is almost sentimental, poking at something Kara doesn’t yet understand, and his next words are all the more confusing for it. “She’s been… persistent, hounding me across the universe. She is rather set on undoing what happened to you.” 

“Is she- why do I still know her name? Why do I feel like _this_ when I remember her?” Kara raises a hand and presses it against her chest without another word, hoping that this strange tightness would go away with Mar’s explanation.

Mar reaches out and squeezes her shoulder. “Because you’re in love. It’s both the sickness and the remedy, as they say.” 

Something about the way he says it seems out of place and Kara frowns. How could she be in love if she was dead? Why, if she could never get back to this woman, is her heart so set on remembering every little thing about her? And why, if she really did love Lena, is there such a persistent ache in her chest when she tries to remember her?

Then again, if she really thinks about it, Kara’s pretty sure she knows the answer to that.

“I hurt her.” 

“You did,” is all Mar offers in return, a sympathetic curl to his lips, and Kara doesn’t have the patience for this exercise in remembrance anymore. Whatever peace she had found up here she knows now was a blissful sort of emptiness, and now that she has a reminder of her life, she can’t return to it. Alex, and Lena, and her family tether her to the spot, and Kara knows she couldn’t forget them now if she tried.

“Show me,” she demands, enough blind hope and arrogance in her to assume that Mar can even do such a thing. “I want my memories back. All of them. Even the bad ones.”

“What about the ease in forgetting? This is not something that can be taken back,” he asks, not critical, but genuinely curious, like she can remember being once. She has a vague memory of being a child again, raising her hand and asking anyone nearby about whatever little thing crossed her mind. It was never done out of malice; Kara has always wanted to seek out the truth to things, and in that way, she and Mar are not so different. “You have passed on. There is no shame in forgetting, especially for someone who has carried so much.”

Kara closes her eyes and feels a surge of conviction rush through her body. It isn’t something that she’s found in herself in a long time, and she holds on tight to the boldness it gives her. “I’ve always liked a challenge,” she says, and Mar dares to smile.

“Very well,” he says at last and places a hand on her shoulder. At the simple touch, Kara remembers it all.

She remembers the battles, and the blows landed and given. She remembers watching Krypton explode, remembers what the symbol on her chest means— remembers why she chose to make the sacrifice she made.

But more than that, Kara remembers the _feeling_ behind it all, the big and small moments that were all-encompassing and above all filled to the brim with emotion. She remembers now how it was those feelings that dictated everything she did; she’d always followed her heart more than her head, and it’s evident in the swirl of memories surging back now.

Kara can see the brightness in Brainy’s eyes again, and the wisdom in J’onn’s. She can remember how proud she was every time Nia fought at her side or stood up for herself at Catco. She remembers weekends spent huddled around a police scanner with James and Winn when she was first starting as Supergirl that left her feeling warm and light— and sometimes, when not even her friends could help ease the weight on her shoulders, talking quietly with Cat Grant, the city spread out and shining underneath them. 

Of course, she also remembers the pain. Looking back on it now, seeing her life in front of her as if painted on a canvas, Kara knows that darkness has guided her life as much as the light has. The tragedies and the defeats and the failures sometimes removed her choice altogether. She remembers how she felt under the control of the Black Mercy, or Red Kryptonite; she relives the agonizing helplessness holding Astra in her arms as she had died. Non and Lillian Luthor, Rhea and Reign and Agent Liberty all loom large in some corner of her mind, and she understands again the agony of being beaten down into the ground, of getting back up only to stare a new threat in the eyes, to grit her teeth and prepare to get hurt all over again.

Then, there’s Lex. He… actually killed her— actually put an end to the vicious cycle. It’s a tough pill to swallow, even if it’s all said and done now— even if it had been just one single loss in the face of saving the rest of the universe. She can’t help but take it personally— knew that’s how Lex had taken it himself. The man had finally gotten what he’d always wanted: bringing a Kryptonian to their knees by his own hand. 

Kara remembers why she had been so worried about it playing out like that. 

Because she remembers her sister, and she remembers the girl she had been in love with. Alex, her soul, and Lena, her heart. She remembers what it felt like to be ripped away from them— to make the decision to leave them. 

It had been for the greater good; it had been for _their_ good. But now, knowing everything that happened before and knowing that life still carried on without her, Kara can’t help but feel terribly greedy for something so noble.

Kara doesn’t say anything when the memories finish finding their way back into her mind, refilling a vast ocean of little moments one drop at a time, and Mar seems to understand. He lets her soak in it for a moment, taking the time to recline further back on his hands and survey the simple grayness of their surroundings. Once, Kara had found it wonderfully empty; now, it feels barren, so vacant that her imagination begins filling in the blanks. For the first time, she sees ghosts— not of the people waiting for her, but those she left behind.

As she starts to fill in the blanks and unknown edges with familiar faces, Kara finds herself wanting to cry.

Right alongside the memories and the mistakes and the hard, resolute decisions and actions she took are the fleeting moments. The flashes of gray in between the black and the white— the could have beens, and the maybes, and the nearlys. She can’t help but wonder what it is she missed out on. She has a feeling she’ll always wonder about what she _almost_ had.

(Kara wonders, sometimes, why she longs most for the things that she will never know. Or maybe, she thinks, that is what she’s always feared the most, deep down— the unknown. The lack of control. The almosts, and the maybes.)

“Oh,” she finally says, hugging her knees and hoping that if she blinks hard enough, the corners of her vision won’t be so blurry. Kara doesn’t want to cry here; she’s supposed to be at peace, isn’t she? “I get what you mean about the ease in forgetting.” She cracks a smile, however forced, and chuckles. “Very wise.”

“I am sorry if it… disappointed you. I did not intend to cause you any pain.” The Monitor takes a breath, looks over at Kara like he wants to say more, but Kara doesn’t want to hear it. She doesn’t want his pity.

“No. Don’t be sorry.” She takes a shaky breath, wishing there was something else to look at. “There’s no sense in mourning a life that I chose to give away.”

“It’s alright to have regrets,” Mar says, pressing for something. “You have every right-”

“I don’t regret it,” Kara cuts in, leaving no room for argument. “I will always make the decision I made. Every single time.” Her words feel so similar to the ones she had said to Alex all those years ago, and Kara can feel the same surge of pride when she says them again. But then she deflates and thinks about what she’s done, and that pride starts to seem more like hubris. “But you’re right. I do have some… regrets.”

She clears her throat to mask the stinging bout of laughter fighting to bubble out of her. Calling the feeling burning inside of her _regret_ washes out its intensity. Kara doesn’t think there’s a strong enough word in any language on earth to describe how she feels about leaving her family, about turning her back on Lena, about walking away from Alex without a single word of warning, about-

It’s worth it, to know that they’re safe. Kara repeats that to herself like a mantra. It’s enough, it’s enough, it’s enough. It should be. It has to be.

They sit together in silence once more, until Kara can’t ignore the disarming intensity of Mar’s presence any longer. It’s like he’s holding in a breath and waiting for permission to let it go. Kara knows that the Monitor doesn’t make social calls, especially not to the afterlife. She still doesn’t know if they’re friends, exactly— there’s too much war and sacrifice and blood between them to make that clear— but she does know that Mar Novu always has a purpose.

“You’re here for something, aren’t you,” she says, observing more than asking. Mar’s face betrays nothing, but he doesn’t have to, not when Kara understands him so well. There is nothing the Monitor does without intent behind it. “You want something. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be here. You never would have given me my memories back if not.”

The breath is released, so to speak, and Mar finally looks over at her, resolute. Still calm, and still pensive, but holding more of the unimaginable power he possesses in the straightness of his spine. Kara knows then with certainty that he really is here for a reason— and knows that whatever it is, it involves her.

“After your death, I continued to travel all across the universe,” Mar starts, and Kara follows, trusting that eventually, he will tell her what he needs to. The Monitor isn’t one for pointless tangents. “I restored peace, and rebuilt planets, and maintained order, just as I’d always done. I felt it was my duty to ensure that things were set right. Everything was normal. Or at least, that was what I believed.”

“You told me things were fine,” Kara says, sharper now that her memories are clear, now that she remembers how much she cares.

“And they are,” Mar answers, patient. “Your world kept spinning, no matter what it had endured. But something was off, and I couldn’t fathom why, until now. It was you,” he tells her, and Kara furrows her brow, lost.

“Me?” Kara chuckles simply because there’s nothing else for her to do. It sounds nervous, and it dies as soon as it begins.

“Earth may have survived the loss of Supergirl, but that doesn’t mean it wasn’t changed.”

“Okay, that’s… understandable,” Kara says and attempts to venture out into the no-man’s land between them— trying to figure out why Mar is acting like he’s giving her pieces of a puzzle she should be putting together. Of course, the Earth would be different. Kara isn’t an overly arrogant person, but she’d always known that her death wouldn’t be without its consequences. “I’m sorry,” she says with a huff, giving up. “I’m not grasping what it is you’re implying.”

“Kara,” he answers, patient and amused and strangely over-eager. “They still need you.”

She winces against the unintentional sting of the words. “Maybe in another lifetime,”

she says, fighting to keep the guilt out of her voice. “It’s too late for that now.” 

“What if I told you it wasn’t?”

Kara stops cold.

“Mar, what are you talking about?” she asks, trying hard to remain calm. His words, as simple and as leading as they were, are leading her down a rabbit hole she’d really rather not be caught in if it collapses. Kara doesn’t believe in false hope, but she can’t stop her mind from wandering. “What are you trying to say?”

“I came here to help you. I’m offering you a choice. A new deal.” Mar takes a breath, and Kara hangs on to every word, knowing that whatever is coming next will forever shatter the sense of ease she’d been basking in here in this blank space. “You can go back to them if that is what you decide.”

Kara laughs.

It’s a quick, uncomfortable chuckle that bursts its way out of her mouth, but Kara can’t do anything to stop it nor does she try to because the words that had just come from Mar’s mouth are equally absurd. They’re more than that; they’re practically unfathomable, and they’re not sinking in the way she feels they probably should, with how he stares over at her.

“I’m sorry,” she says, still bemused, clearing her throat and wondering why Mar isn’t laughing too. It’s an excellent joke, even if it is mean-spirited and a little hard to believe. “What?”

“You can go back,” Mar says again, no less serious than before, and Kara’s smile fades. Somehow, she’s getting the feeling that maybe this isn’t one last prank the universe is pulling on her. “Kara, I have the power to bring you back.”

“But I’m dead,” she retorts, and this isn’t funny at all anymore. Panic floods into the cracks that her laughter created in her facade. While she still isn’t grasping what it is Mar is offering, she is beginning to feel the enormity of it and doesn’t like it one bit. “You can’t do that.”

“I can,” he answers, and Kara splutters. She isn’t sure if she doesn’t believe that the Monitor is that powerful or if she doesn’t _want_ him to be. 

(If it’s the latter, if Kara doesn’t actually want any of this to be possible, then Kara needs to take a good hard look at herself and ask herself why.)

“No, you can’t,” she repeats, inexplicably angry now. Maybe it’s because this seems too good to be true— or maybe it’s because her original deal feels tactless now if the Monitor has always had such control over life and death. “I died. I finished my deal and Lex’s deal and evened it all out. It’s all null and void, now. It was supposed to be done with.”

“You kept up your side of the agreement, yes. I’m not offering a chance to undo what happened. I’m giving you a new start. A chance for redemption.”

“Don’t speak in riddles,” Kara says, balling her fists. Maybe she was scared of the Monitor, once upon a time— or at least respected his abilities enough to not challenge him directly unless she had to. But she’s dead now, with nothing else in the way, and if she killed his brother then Kara knows she could take Mar on too if he doesn’t start telling her the truth. “You can’t just say something like that and expect me to believe there won’t be any consequences.”

Mar raises his hands in defense, still having the nerve to look collected when he’s just told Kara something that’s shaken her to her core.

“I never said there wouldn’t be consequences.”

“So what are they?” Kara asks, her voice unnaturally loud in the space they’re sitting in. It echoes jaggedly through the haze, and for the first time, Kara can’t hear the voices whispering her name. “What, I get to come back but my world gets destroyed again? I know how these things work, Mar.” Her voice hardens. “I know someone always pays for these things with blood.”

“Your world will be safe no matter the outcome,” Mar responds, reassuring the part of her that still remembers the way she’d felt when Alex and Oliver and Barry had told her what had happened— when she found out what else she’d managed to lose. 

“Then what’s the catch?” she asks him. “What aren’t you telling me?”

Mar sets his jaw and turns more fully to face her, looking more powerful than Kara can ever remember seeing him. “This time around, this isn’t your deal, Kara. It’s mine.”

“What-?”

Mar cuts her off. “It’s a simple trade, really. My life for yours,” he says, and sensing the fact that Kara is about to boil over, he keeps talking, his voice never faltering or wavering. The Monitor is ceaseless. “Now, it isn’t set in stone. You are under no obligation to do anything on my behalf, but yes, Kara. If I stay behind, then you can return to your Earth.”

“How is that a fair trade?” Kara asks because this is the Monitor she’s bargaining with. Kara probably knows him better than most, yet she knows that he has shoes she can’t fill. “I’m- I’m just me, and no matter how powerful I am, I can’t be you! You’ve done things that I can’t even begin to comprehend. You… you watch over the entire universe, for Rao’s sake!”

“I do watch over the universe,” Mar agrees, tapping his fingers against the ground like he’s already thought this through a million times— and if Kara had to place a bet, she’d guess that’s exactly what he’d done. “That’s why I know that I’m no longer needed. It isn’t the same place you left it as, Kara. Because of what you did to defeat my brother, I feel… content, for the first time in millennia. I feel ready to move on if that is also what you want.”

“What I want?” Kara says, barely able to speak. _What she wants?_ That isn’t a question Kara gets asked, nor is it one she’s prepared to answer, yet Mar sits by her side now, with his life on the line, asking her exactly that. It only adds to her rising terror. “How can you even say that? I have no idea what I want.”

“I think you do.” At Kara’s unimpressed look, Mar presses forwards. “What did you seek out most on Earth?”

“I… I wanted to protect people. I wanted to spare them the same fate as Krypton.”

Mar just shakes his head— like Kara isn’t getting his point. “That’s what you were sent to Earth to do. You were tasked with looking after Kal-El, and when you couldn’t do that, you decided to guard over everyone else instead.” He puts a hand on her shoulder that Kara neither welcomes nor shakes off. It feels so alien now, after who knows how long she’d been up here alone, to have someone else reaching out for her who she can see, who she can touch back— who is asking something so monumental of her.

“Look, for just a moment, past your sense of duty. Beyond your responsibilities. I’m not asking you what Supergirl wanted. I’m asking what that little girl who crashed all alone in a strange new world did.” Kara inhales shakily, and Mar gives her shoulder one last squeeze before taking his hand away. “What did you hope to find, Kara?”

“What anyone else would,” she answers honestly, and Kaa thinks she’s finally starting to understand what it is Mar is asking her. He’s already seen into the deepest, darkest recesses of her mind, after all; every test he’d given her hadn’t been about what Supergirl was capable of. It was about what she was willing to sacrifice her life for, about whatshe was willing to forsake— and she knows that is the answer now. “I wanted people to belong with. Someone to love. I didn’t want to be abandoned again. I wanted a family.”

“You found one, didn’t you?” At Kara’s ensuing nod, Mar smiles over at her, encouraging. “And is that what you still want?”

“Of course,” she replies, but still reluctant. “More than anything, but-”

“Then you can go back. Your family hasn’t gone anywhere.”

“I don’t believe you,” she blurts out suddenly, unable to suspend her disbelief any longer. Mar nods, like it’s completely understandable, and gives her a careful, genuine smile.

“I wouldn’t lie to you, Kara. I promise you that this is sincere.”

Kara balks, feeling overwhelmed and doubtful and above all, terrified. Mar doesn’t understand what he’s offering her. He _can’t_ understand what could happen if this is real, if Kara really can come back to life. But, when she studies his eyes, Kara only finds honesty. Mar is telling her the truth.

She really could begin again. She can go back to National City, and be Supergirl again. She could save people again. Kara can see her family again— see Alex again, and Lena.

Kara could finish what she started— or, she could only make things worse.

Suddenly, tears come to her eyes.

“I don’t know if I can,” she says, fighting to keep her voice steady. “They don’t need me anymore.”

She watches the Monitor look away through blurry vision, maybe giving her a moment of privacy. He must sense what Kara is really struggling with, but he doesn’t react, just sits patiently as Kara blinks away her tears.

“I can assure you that Earth will always need Supergirl,” he tells her. “You brought hope, and light, and courage to a world that can sorely lack those things. If you choose to return, it will be in good favor.”

“I don’t mean as Supergirl,” Kara says sharply, because, despite his kindness, Mar doesn’t seem to grasp that Kara is far more concerned with filling the shoes of Kara Danvers again, not Supergirl. “I don’t- I gave up on what I wanted so I could be Supergirl. I saved my world… but I did exactly what my parents did to me on Krypton. I was so scared of being abandoned again that instead, I was the one who abandoned my friends, my family.”

At the mention of Krypton, the voices seem to swell again, so forceful that Kara can almost imagine them standing around her now, reaching out and beckoning for her. She can see her father, with the same mournful look of pride that he had on his face when he first sent her away, now waiting for her to rejoin him and the rest of Krypton. Has Kara always seen his forsaking her noble, or is it only because that’s what she’s subjected her own family to?

It’s what Kara’s always thought she wanted. Death with dignity, with honor, with the same type of sacrifice that had allowed her to survive Krypton. Kara has always wondered if she had been meant to die with her people all along if her coming to Earth was nothing more than a fluke. She’s found people on Earth who see her as some type of miracle— but Kara doesn’t have the heart nor the strength to admit it was really nothing more than a freak accident.

Somehow, she was the one who ended up in that pod out of millions, and Kara has been trying to justify that fact to herself ever since. She’d thought that with a death like hers, that part of her unruly heart would finally be tamed.

Then she thinks of Krypton, blown to bits with little pomp or circumstance, or her aunt, stabbed in the back and entering Rao’s light on an unfamiliar planet. Kara thinks of her own death now, of that long fall back to the ground, and how the red sun that had once offered her such childlike comfort only brought pain. Lena was right all along, Kara thinks. Death is never all that dignified, and maybe it’s time Kara’s stopped hoping that it would be her chance at atonement.

But, still, Kara lingers here, tears in her eyes and torn between two worlds, like she had been when she first came to Earth. It would be so easy to join her father and aunt in the stars. There, she knows she will at least find some peace, however bittersweet. Back on Earth, though, Kara knows she will take on the burden of the world again— and the weight of her own sins.

She turns and looks at Mar hard, searching for answers from him and from herself. “How can I face them, knowing what I did? How can I believe that they’ll forgive me if I never forgave my parents? How can I justify to myself that I’m deserving of what I once had?”

“It was a good life that you led.” Mar places a careful hand on her shoulder and Kara flinches, no longer accustomed to carrying any sort of weight. Her back aches almost with a phantom pain, and she doesn’t know who to believe: Mar speaking to her with such soft sincerity, or the scars on her body that seem to tell her otherwise. “One that you are still deserving of. It may be hard to see that now, when all you can think of is your ending act, but you were good, and you were kind, and-”

“And a liar,” Kara finishes for him. She can’t understand why he’s offering her the chance to go back. What she did isn’t something that can be swept under the rug; Kara can’t recapture the life that she once had, nor can she ever have the one she wanted to before she died. Some things can’t be undone. “You say I’m all of these things— that I’m supposed to be a hero to all these people— and yet I hurt everyone around me.”

“Isn’t that part of being human?” Mar asks, and even if it is bait Kara bites anyway, the voices swirling around them reminding her of Krypton and her pod and the Phantom Zone. She swears she can hear Astra and her father and the rest of her family, and they’re too strong to tune out.

I’m no human,” she answers, just as she had told Alex years before. This time it’s different when the words leave her mouth. This time, it’s a lament— this time, human is exactly what Kara wants to be. Even as Krypton waits for her somewhere in the distance with open arms, even if she knows she could turn away and embrace her lost home, Kara can’t escape the same yearning she’d held in her heart growing up in Midvale. “Sometimes, I really wish I was.”

Sometimes, she wants the happy ending that only humans ever get.

“Kara Zor-El,” Mar says, smiling with such kindness that Kara is unable to look away. “You may bear a Kryptonian name, and come from another world, but I have never seen someone so human when they loved. It was your greatest strength, just as it was your greatest tragedy. Your home is on earth now. You can go back to it as soon as you realize that you are worthy of it.”

“Worthy? After everything, what can I possibly be worthy of?” 

“Forgiveness, Kara. You must forgive yourself now. You deserve the mercy that you so willingly give others.”

“I- I don’t know how to do that,” she says with a watery scoff, bringing her knees up against her chest. She feels like a little kid again— full of big emotions and with no place large enough to place them— then remembers that she still _is_ young. She had to grow up too fast, and it’s times like these where Kara realizes how much she still doesn’t know, and how much she’d never thought she’d get to. “I never learned how.”

“I understand. You were never taught to value that type of love. It held no real importance on Krypton, did it? Not that it would have changed anything about its death. And you have always been such a devout carrier of your people’s sins.” 

The words stung, but Kara couldn’t deny the truth of them. Forgiveness couldn’t save her world, or bring back her family or her people, and ever since, that had become a part of her. Forgiveness of others was easy, but for someone who had survived what Kara had, who had lost and failed and made so many mistakes, turning that on herself seemed a Herculean task that not even she could carry out.

“I can’t teach you. I’m not better than you in that regard.” Mar shrugs his shoulders and he looks so incredibly _mortal,_ looks no less sure about anything than Kara is, that she actually takes faith in it. It takes a great deal of courage to be someone as almighty as the Monitor and still sit in the dirt, no less enlightened than anyone else. “I’m still looking for that answer myself, Kara. All I know is that if you seek the forgiveness of others, you need to also find it within. Take it from a man who understands better than most: even you are capable of mistakes. You don’t deserve to die for them.”

“Mar, I- I...” Kara falters, tries to find the words to convey the enormity of what he’s offering— of what he’s suggesting about her and her heart. “I can’t just… _forgive_ myself. My choices aren’t small, or meaningless, they- they change everything. One misstep and someone can die. Someone always gets hurt.” The guilt she’s become so used to has never felt so hot against her ribs; it burns and bites and gnaws away at her insides until it feels impossible to ever wash her hands of it. “I won’t ever forgive myself.”

And that’s true, not a measly attempt at an excuse or deflection. That’s honesty, and frankly, it’s _terrifying_ to realize. If Krypton taught her one thing, it was that no amount of forgiveness in the world could ever bring back her parents, or save her world. And Earth had taught her to be selfless, to see the good in others above all else. To believe in second chances, and the ability to change, and the power in redemption. 

But how can she expect anyone to forgive her if she can’t even do it herself?

“You say you won’t, that you can’t.” Mar raises his eyebrow and gives her a sideways look. “You weren’t supposed to defeat my brother, either— but you’ve always had a talent for defying the odds. Nothing is impossible for someone like you. Have you ever even tried?”

Kara knows the answer to that. In fact, she knows her answer to quite a few things now. 

“I’m scared,” she whispers, confessing, and Mar inclines his head. Once more, Kara feels an odd sense of kinship with him, whoever he is. “ _So_ scared. How can I be more scared of this than I was of leaving it all in the first place?”

Mar just laughs, sympathetic but still not pitying. “Life is harder than death, and that does make it terrifying. The most important part of facing your fear is accepting its existence,” he says. “But you deserve a chance to overcome and start anew.”

Kara’s head spins; she grits her teeth and tries to approach this calmly. Mar is right about her fears— but that doesn’t stop the uncertainty from creeping in, shrouding her vision. She frowns and tries one last-ditch attempt for Mar to see reason, says it slow and quiet so he can finally understand the swirling mess of a person he is trading himself for.

“Surely I can’t be worth it.” She says it with a wry chuckle that hides very real doubts, reaching out and pulling her knees to her chest as her half-hearted smile disappears. “Supergirl is the one who does the saving. I make the hard choices, but that’s… I’m the one that loses. That’s what I’m used to.”

“Have you ever considered that I’m not losing?” Mar asks, and when Kara’s wide eyes snap back to him, she notices the depths to his eyes, how hollow and vast they are. “I am an old man— older than you know. Traveling alone has made me weary, and I am tired of it. I have been waiting for this for a long time.”

Something flickers behind the weathered stone of the Monitor’s eyes, and Kara knows she is right about him being more than just a husk. Despite it all, Mar does not seem reluctant about the deal he’s asking her to make, but firm. Resolute, like it’s something he’s already made his peace with and nothing she could say would change it. Kara knows the feeling— knows what it’s like, the moment before you give yourself up. 

She never thought anyone would return the favor. Not for her.

“I learned long ago that this universe is cold and indifferent. I used to abide by its rules— until I met you, Kara. You taught me the value of doing good— of _being_ good— despite it all. And it isn’t just me.” He smiles, shakes his head in a way that Kara knows she’s seen before, like Mar is waiting for Kara to realize something he’s known for quite some time. “You may think that your value holds nothing more than what you can give for others, but that is not true. You mean much more than that to a great many people.”

Somewhere, distantly, Kara feels his words ring true, feels them take root in her and strengthen her wavering resolve. But the lesson he imparts feels impossible all the same. Perhaps she’s always been too much of a martyr, always seeking out a cause to give herself to that she’s never realized it. Maybe, she is more than that. 

“I might not be able to fix it this time,” Kara confesses, feeling like she’s teetering on the edge but still digging in with her fingertips, afraid to drop. She knows that whatever could be waiting for her back on Earth could be nothing but more pain, and suffering, and exhaustion, and Kara is _tired_ of it all— she’s been tired of it for some time, which is what made giving her life so easy. “I don’t know if I’ll get a second chance. And what’s the point then, if I come back and still lose everything?”

“From what I’ve learned, that’s where you must hope. It’s your choice. I won’t pretend to know what complications may await you back on Earth,” Mar says, glancing once more at the blank sky before meeting her gaze at last. There, Kara sees uncertainty, but underneath that, hope; Mar practices exactly what he preaches. She wonders what voices Mar hears, beckoning to him in this place, and is reminded of the fact that for him, this might be the ultimate victory. “But I do know that we both have people who miss us. I’d very much like to see my family again. If you want, you can see yours too. So again, Kara: what do you really want?”

Really, Kara knows that it isn’t a choice. Not anymore. She’s made her mistakes, and dug her own grave, and left her blood at the altar; she’s given her life away— but if there’s one lesson she’s learned being up here, it’s that she isn’t ready to move on from it. Kara isn’t finished down there. She’s still chasing after something— has been seeking it out for what feels like her entire life— and she won’t let it slip through her fingers again. Maybe, she realizes, what she’s been missing all along is the chance to find peace in someplace other than in death. 

Besides, Mar is right about another thing. Kara would do anything to see Alex again. To talk with James, and dance with J’onn, and to laugh with Nia and Brainy, and visit Clark. She would do anything to have one last chance to be with Lena, to do all the things she never got to.

Maybe this time, she’ll say the things she should have been all along.

Kara nods, hardly able to speak. “Thank you.” She swallows hard, the consequences of what she is about to do a fluttering pulse against her throat like she can feel her heart bringing itself back to life. She braces against the strange mix of emotions bubbling in her chest and smiles despite it. “I really hope you’re happy, wherever you go,” she says, and Mar places his hands on her shoulders for the last time. She can feel the power crackling between them, and knows that this will be the last time they talk for a long while. She’s sadder than she thought she’d be.

“Remarkable,” he says, and Kara knows he is smiling too, even with blinding light flooding out from his fingertips, obscuring her vision. He has the warmth of a man about to go home, and Kara can understand how he feels. She feels the same. “Don’t ever lose that hope, Kara Zor-El. For yourself as well as everyone else.”

“Goodbye,” Kara says, and she closes her eyes.

When she opens them again, Kara is back to a place that no longer feels quite as familiar— but it’s home all the same.

. . .

The sun is setting back at Midvale, and Kara takes just a moment to bask in its last few rays. She’s sitting on a bench near the cemetery— having been spared the unpleasantness of clawing her way out of her grave. Still, she’s cold and aching, her bones tired as if that’s exactly what she’d spent a lifetime doing. She feels on the verge of collapsing, and leans into the warmth a little more; something tells her she’s going to need every last ounce of strength that she can find to return to her old life. 

She’s alone— and it’s different, being alone here than it was when she died. Wherever she was, wherever she went, it never held the same grip over her as earth does. She remembers how lonely it can be, surrounded by the world and feeling very small in it. Her eyes dart across the cemetery and settle on the valley that Midvale is nestled in, and Kara takes a deep breath in the silence. It seems like a lifetime ago, being here. She supposes that for her, it really was. 

She doesn’t feel the urge to wander among the dead until she finds her own name, even if she knows it is there. Kara could have asked Mar for the details, she knows; she could have asked about Alex, and Eliza, and her friends back in National City. She could have asked more about Lena. Kara could have demanded every detail of the pain and the grief that her choice caused, could have let the guilt and the shame of it rise steadily until she was soaked in it, could have reveled in the familiarity of having a debt to repay. 

And yet, oddly enough, she didn’t.

Something Mar said sticks with her even now, about what it is she deserves. Forgiveness, he’d said. Mercy. It isn’t something she’s ever thought to extend to herself, but maybe that’s what she’s been missing all along. Maybe, she needs to find something else to seek out besides new burdens to carry. Maybe, she should start asking for something to ease her already heavy shoulders.

The blazing, golden light settles gorgeously on the marbled gravestones and tombs that she has returned to, glancing off of the carved letters and dates and making even the cracked stones and overgrown weeds look like they belong. The sun has a way of doing that, after all; it’s always made Kara feel at home. Now, it helps usher her back into a life that she’d thought was lost to her forever, casting everything in a glow that is so soothing that it practically aches.

She could spend forever out here, can feel her eyes drift closed and her body tugging her towards unconsciousness under the balm. But she doesn’t want to; she wants to stumble her way through the familiar fields, drag her feet along the beach, and crawl, if she had to, just to get to Eliza’s front porch. What will happen, next, she isn’t sure, but she can’t wait any longer. 

Kara would very much like to go home now.

… 

The rest of the night is hazy at best. While Mar had performed a genuine miracle in bringing her back home, Kara soon learns it barely extends past keeping her breathing. The wounds from the Anti-Monitor are faded, but they sting and tear and burn as if they’re fresh; without her powers, she’s lost any chance of healing quickly. With her vision swimming and her chest seizing with every inhale, Kara is left limping, feeling feverish as she makes her way through familiar fields. One thing is certain, even through the fog in her mind: she needs to get home now— before her chance at life flickers out.

Somehow, she finds herself on a familiar porch, her body collapsed cold and clammy against the chipped paint and weathered wood of her own childhood house. Kara can’t even remember half of the trip, but that’s the least of her concerns; with shaking arms, she raises herself just high enough to ring the doorbell. It echoes faintly inside, and Kara moves to a slumped, but upright position. She sits leaned against the porch stairs and stares blankly out into the yard. The tire swing that she and Alex had hung up is still tethered to the old oak tree, and she focuses on its slow swaying movement, fighting the way her eyelids droop and wondering what will happen when that door is opened.

If she is honest, Kara didn’t think this through. One of her hands tries to tame the matted appearance of her hair and brush the dirt off of her clothes before she stops, feeling silly. It looks like she just crawled her way back to the living, but really, that’s exactly what she did. And she doesn’t know how to act after coming back from the dead; all she can hope for, as she listens to padding feet getting closer, is that she doesn’t give Eliza a heart attack.

But despite it all— all of her worry, and exhaustion, and the ache in her bones, Kara can only really focus on one thing. She’s home, and it would be really nice to see her mom again.

Because Kara can’t stop her eyes from fluttering shut any longer, she hears more than sees the moment that Eliza finds her out in the setting sun.

She hears the soft, casual footsteps stutter to a halt, and the creak of the door as it’s opened too fast. She can hear a strange strangled sound come out of Eliza’s throat. Kara wonders if Eliza feels the same way she did when Kara first arrived at her doorstep when Kal handed her off and flew away.

Kara hears her name being spoken, over and over again— first disbelieving, then soft, and sad, almost reverential. After that, her hearing starts to drift in and out, but that’s when Eliza falls to her knees and brings her into her arms, and Kara knows she doesn’t need to be scared. She’s home, and she’s safe, and her mom will look after her just like she has from the first day she took Kara’s hand. 

Eliza is still calling her name, still cradling her head and murmuring words of comfort and shock alike. Kara knows this isn’t what she expected. This is as close to a miracle as anyone’s seen, and even to Kara, the wonder of it takes her breath away.

Her head lolls back to rest against Eliza’s shoulder, and just before she passes out completely, she manages a small smile. The warmth that she feels makes her feel like she’s floating, makes her want to bow her head and trust; has coming home always felt this much like a blissful surrender? Kara isn’t sure, but she welcomes the feeling anyway.

“Hi, Mom,” she whispers, her voice cracking apart and weak from disuse. Her throat aches with the effort, and she isn’t sure if what she said is intelligible at all, but it’s enough for Eliza, who begins crying, pulling her tighter into her arms.

“Sweetheart. It’s okay to rest now,” Kara can hear her say, even as sleep is coming upon her too fast for her to prepare for. She lets out a deep breath and lets herself drift off, knowing that things will be alright. “You’re home.”

… 

Eventually, there’s silence.

Not at first. No, at first, Alex reacts in exactly the way Kara had imagined she would. She bursts through the front door to find her bleary-eyed, beaming mother and her dead sister sitting gingerly on the couch, pale and somber but very much alive, and that’s enough for her. And Alex, always practical, always cynical, always doubtful Alex, doesn’t ask for proof; she sees Kara’s face and barely makes it to the living room, her motorcycle still running outside. Alex doesn’t care. She sinks to her knees in front of Kara and tilts her head in a silent question, and Kara just looks into her eyes and nods. That’s all the proof Alex needs.

When she finally pulls Kara into her arms on the floor of their living room, the crying begins. Fierce, uncontrolled sobs are ripped from Alex’s throat as she buries herself into Kara’s chest, and by the way Eliza’s eyes widen and she holds a hand up to her mouth, a picture of surprised sympathy, maybe this is the first time Alex has really let out her emotions in quite some time. Eliza runs to join their trembling embrace, and when someone presses a tear-soaked kiss to Kara’s forehead, that’s all it takes for her to start crying too. 

Kara falls back on old habits, paying close attention to the small details and imperceptible sensations that have always rooted her to the earth. Eliza smells like home, like a second chance at childhood that Kara hadn’t thought she’d get. She’s wearing a silk bathrobe that Kara can remember giving her on one of the first birthdays Kara spent with the Danvers, and she can picture a million little memories shared in this house— learning to bake cookies, and the rules of hide and seek, and how to shake someone’s hand without breaking their fingers. Eliza smells like coffee grounds and vanilla and something so distinct, yet familiar at the same time. Kara can’t quite place it until she can remember faintly hugging her mother back on Krypton, and then again on Argo, and realizes that Eliza smells the same as her mother does. It’s comforting, knowing that her two mothers, though separated by miles of stars, bring her the same sensation of warmth and safety— of the absolute recognition that she is loved.

Her nose bumps against the familiar, worn leather of Alex’s jacket. The shoulders are damp, as are the ends of Alex’s hair— and Kara can easily picture Alex racing through the early morning fog to get here. She smells stale, like dried sweat and spilled bourbon, so pervasive that Kara is surprised she isn’t drunk right now. She knows her sister, and most importantly, knows how she grieves. Kara knows without asking how hard Alex must have taken this. 

She’s never seen her sister like this. Not even after what happened to Jeremiah, or when she and Maggie broke up, and not from any of the other small tragedies that she has witnessed her sister trudge through. She knows that she is the reason that Alex is crying so jaggedly, and her heart breaks dully at the thought. Somewhere past the roaring in her ears, Kara closes her eyes tighter and tunes into the beating of her sister’s heart—the one sound that has always managed to bring her peace— and finds comfort in the fact that it is still beating despite it all.

That first embrace is perfect. But when Alex pulls away after what could be hours later, with a scratchy throat and a pink nose and fingers that must be cramped and sore from gripping Kara’s shirt so hard, she won’t meet Kara’s eyes. She accepts a cup of tea that Eliza had left to go make and wipes her eyes with her sleeve and with one last trembling sigh, Alex goes quiet.

Kara watches it happen, can practically see the new walls put up between her and her sister, and knows with a sinking certainty that this whole resurrection thing won’t exactly be simple. After all, she can still hear the words of the other Alex that Mar had conjured up in her ear and knows that they’ll still ring true. What Kara did won’t be easy to move past, not without coming to terms with it first. 

Alex has never been one for words. Her sister prefers action over talk, and Kara knows this— but she also knows that this is different. When it mattered— when it really mattered— Alex had always said what she needed to. Now, it’s Kara’s turn. 

She’ll wait until her sister is ready. Then, no matter what, Kara will listen. If she could make a sacrifice for the rest of the world, this time around, she can make one for her sister. 

While she’s still in the middle of figuring out how forgiveness works for herself, Kara knows that getting Alex back will be a start. If she can learn how to earn back her sister, then the rest of the world won’t be so bad. Family is all she’s ever really wanted anyway.

. . .

In the end, it doesn’t take long for Alex to explode.

Kara really should have anticipated it. Alex isn’t patient. She doesn’t bide her time, or gather her thoughts, or wait until the moment is right. She lashes out; she prefers a full-frontal assault, not a stealth mission.

Besides. Kara really should have known what was coming because, in the end, she’s the one that initiates it.

She knows what she told herself. She knows that she made herself a promise to wait, and stand by until Alex was ready to come to her on her own terms. She knows she told herself that she’d follow Alex’s example and learn how to be forgiven, even if she had to wait the rest of her life for it, but Kara really should have known better. Kara really isn’t any more patient than Alex is, especially not when it comes to her emotions, and she’s also always preferred to jump in feet first without testing the water.

So in the end, it isn’t that Alex ignites on her own. It’s more like… Kara swipes the match, lights the fuse, and waits for it to blow.

“Are we going to talk about this at some point?” she asks during lunch, when Eliza has just cleared the table and Alex and Kara sit nursing two iced teas. It’s the day after they reunited, and despite seeing her sister again, Alex still doesn’t seem to be coping all that well because Kara catches her pouring something from her flask into the drink. 

Alex’s head shoots up, and Kara can hear Eliza suck in a breath in the kitchen, and just like that, smoke is in the air.

“Huh?” her sister asks, her knuckles growing white around the glass, and Kara frowns.

“You’ve barely said a word to me,” she points out, even as Alex glowers over at her. She knows that’s the last warning sign her sister is going to give her, and it’s an obvious one at that— all flashing lights and screaming sirens that signal clearly to Kara to keep her mouth shut— but she moves forwards anyway, turning fully to Alex and silently demanding an answer.

“That- that isn’t true,” Alex responds shortly as if that doesn’t prove Kara’s point perfectly. She scowls when Kara doesn’t say anything back, just crosses her arms and raises an eyebrow. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Alex. You haven’t said more than fifteen words to me since last night. I counted.” Kara swallows hard and tries to remain calm, despite knowing that she’s about to start something that she has no doubt Alex doesn’t want any part of— and if she’s honest, Kara’s not sure she does either. This is the part that’s going to hurt. “You’re angry with me.”

“No, I’m not,” Alex says, practically growling. It’s more of a threat than a denial, one last-ditch effort to get Kara to drop it and mind her own business, but Kara has seen this before. Mar showed her how Alex would react, and she knows that if she pushes enough times, her sister will push back.

(This is probably healthy, right? Kara probably should have asked Kelly for advice before poking the bear that is her older sister, but she isn’t convinced that even a professional therapist’s instruction could prevent this impending trainwreck.)

“Come on, Alex. You’re brooding. And you’re ignoring me. I know how you act when you’re upset with me.”

“Oh you do, do you?” Alex asks, snapping a little, and Eliza picks that time to speak up.

“I’m going to town to run some errands. We’re out of eggs… and some other things, probably. I’ll be back in a few hours,” she says, giving Kara a small smile that could be interpreted as encouraging and a sympathetic frown in Alex’s direction when she whirls around in her seat, looking betrayed.

“Mom, wait, I can come help-” Alex tries, but Eliza shuts her down swiftly, already grabbing her keys.

“No, Alexandra, it shouldn’t be any trouble,” Eliza says, leaving no room for argument. “You spend some time with your sister. Why don’t you go on the roof? I know how much you two loved it up there when you were kids.”

“ _Mom_ -” Alex says again, a little desperate, and her eyes flash when this time it’s Kara who cuts her off with a weak smile.

“That’s a great idea. I haven’t been up there in years.”

“Sounds wonderful, honey,” Eliza says, leaning down to press a quick kiss to each of their foreheads. “Just be safe up there, alright? You don’t have your powers back yet, and I don’t want any injuries, alright? Lord knows you two have given me enough stress as is.”

Kara winces, and Alex scoffs, her eyes sparking with the anger Kara had known was there but is only seeing clearly now. “Don’t worry, Mom,” Alex says, fuming. “I’ll be careful. Just, don’t ask the same of Kara, though. I think she’d rather _die._ ”

A beat of uncomfortable silences passes through the room, and Eliza sighs. 

“Just, be gentle with each other, please,” she says, and Kara looks down at her shoes. “I know how hard this has been for both of you, but don’t forget what’s really important.” 

Eliza walks out the front door, then, hopping in the family truck before starting the engine. By the time the clock on the microwave changes, Eliza is safely out of earshot, and finally, Kara and Alex are alone.

“Roof?” Kara asks, her voice small and lacking the bravado from earlier now that it’s sunk in that this is _really_ going to happen.

Alex rolls her eyes and tips back the last of her drink. “Whatever,” she says, standing up with a huff, and Kara follows silently behind.

Kara takes in the familiar, comforting scenery as she follows her sister out their bedroom window, climbing up onto the part of the roof that hangs over their backyard. It really is one of her favorite places in the world; Kara has endless fond, carefree memories of sitting on the shingles with her sister, talking late into the night, and watching for shooting stars. Once the two of them had finally clicked together, this became _their_ place, where Kara could tell her sister about Krypton and Alex could explain the stupidest, most mundane things about earth and Kara would still listen, enraptured. 

They’d spent the night of Kara’s first homecoming dance up here after she accidentally broke her date’s toe dancing. Alex had followed Kara here after the death of Kenny, and Kara had done the same for her the night before Alex left for college, when she was nervous and excited and feeling guilty about leaving Kara alone in Midvale. No matter what happened up on that roof, it had always been about the two of them.

This has always been a place of honesty for them. A place of growth, and a place of love. This is the place where Kara first really understood what it meant to have Alex in her life. This is where she first found her sister, and now, Kara hopes that this can be where she gets her back.

She tries not to let it get to her when Alex refuses to sit on the blanket Kara had brought up with her, when she doesn’t even take a pillow and instead sits a good few feet away, knees pulled tight and hunched over on the hard, pointy shingles. Kara sighs and leaves Alex be, for now, instead focusing on unfurling the soft quilt and grabbing her own pillow to hug to her chest. Kara wonders what her sister is thinking; it’s hard to tell when she’s faced fully away from her, yet still darting her eyes back at her jerkily every couple seconds. If she could just get a glimpse inside Alex’s head, even just a hint as to where she’s at, then maybe Kara won’t feel like she’s grasping at straws.

But Alex doesn’t budge, and her walls seem to be made of reinforced steel now, so all Kara can do is take a deep breath and try.

“Alex,” she says, already feeling the tension work into her bones. It makes her jaw hard to move, and Kara has to struggle to remain steady. “Can you please, just give me something? I mean, how are you? Are you okay?”

“How am I?” Alex mutters more to herself than to Kara. It’s mocking and clearly furious, and Kara tries to find encouragement in the fact that at least her sister isn’t denying her anger any longer. “That’s really something to hear, coming from you.”

“See, this is why I get the feeling that you’re angry,” Kara says. She’d do or say just about anything to get Alex to talk to her with some degree of emotional honesty.

“I am NOT angry!” Alex seethes, so upset that she’s lost all self-awareness of the fact that her raised voice and bared teeth tell Kara otherwise. Kara does her best to tamp down the nervous, strangled laugh fighting to make its way out of her throat.

“Okay,” she says, trying to keep the peace, but her sister still glowers over at her.

“I’m doing just fine,” she says, and the encouraging words do nothing to hide the bitterness they’re built upon. “I mean, my sister’s back from the dead. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Alex, you don’t _have_ to be fine about this,” Kara says, trying her best not to sound pestering. The truth is that she has no idea what she’s doing. Her relationship with Alex has been so natural, so _strong_ and tight-knit for so many years that Kara’s forgotten what it’s like to have to work at it. She’s forgotten what it’s like to have her sister close herself off from her. “Clearly, you’re not great. Which is okay, of course,” she adds quickly. “I don’t want you to think that I want things to be normal again. Not right away, at least. But I think we could get there eventually, don’t you?”

Alex doesn’t react.

“Look,” Kara says with a sigh when Alex says or does nothing to initiate anything between them. Kara, more than anything else, is tired. She’s sick of this tension between them, and just wants her sister back, no strings attached. “I know this is hard. And I know maybe I’m asking too much of you. But I’m just trying to understand where you’re at. I want to know what I missed.”

This time, Alex does react, turning and spitting venom in Kara’s direction.

“What you missed? You’re acting like you took a sabbatical, Kara! You didn’t go on some vacation.” Alex hunches her shoulders and grits her teeth, like talking about this is physically painful. “You _died_. I had to _bury_ you.”

_This is a good start,_ Kara tries to tell herself, but it’s hard to keep that in mind when Alex’s hurt is aimed directly at her. _This is probably very healthy, and important, and a chance to release some pent up feelings._

Kara squeezes the pillow tighter and tries to approach this calmly. While she may have been the one to instigate this, that doesn’t mean she _wants_ Alex to blow up on her. If she can, Kara would much rather defuse the entire situation. “I know that, and I understand how that must have impacted you-”

“Oh, don’t you fucking patronize me,” Alex yells, and Kara gulps. Clearly, her sister is well past the point of disarmament. “How the hell could _you_ understand? You’re not the one who lost a sister, or a friend, or family. Don’t tell me you _understand_ my pain! If you did, you wouldn’t have caused it in the first place.”

“Well, how am I supposed to act?” Kara asks, feeling herself losing her temper as well. “Alex, I’m trying here. I really am. Just… tell me what to do.”

“Tell you what to do?”

“Yes!” Kara answers, throwing her arms up. “I can’t help, or make any of this better-”

“You can’t just magically fix this, Kara.”

“-I know that!” Kara says, yelling herself. She huffs out a breath and glares at the back of her sister’s head, wishing they were fighting about something else— anything else but this. At least then she’d stand a better chance at understanding where her sister was coming from, but Kara doesn’t even _know_ what Alex has been through. Instead, she just has to go in blind. “But I still want to try. So, tell me what you need.”

Alex turns around and regards her for a moment in silence, before her eyes turn to ice. 

“Alright, Kara. I’ll tell you what I need,” she says, her voice quiet and all the more dangerous for it. “I need to know why you did it.”

“I… I’m not sure about that. Now might not be the best time-”

“You just asked me what I needed from you,” Alex points out, cornering her in. “And this is it, Kara. So, either tell me right now or I’m going into town to find Mom and I won’t ever give you the chance to fix _this_ ever again.”

Kara hesitates. While she knew they’d have to talk about _this_ at some point— knew Alex wouldn’t let her off the hook without them having a long, drawn-out fight about what happened with the Monitor— she really wishes they could skip over that part. It’s going to be nothing but unpleasant, and Kara is still getting used to having Alex back. She doesn’t want that to be immediately overshadowed by her death.

_Forgiveness_ , she reminds herself. She has to do this with Alex, no matter how painful.

“I don’t understand,” she says, unable to stop herself from evading Alex’s question one last time.

Alex leans forward, punctuates her words with a steely glare. Kara couldn’t escape it if she tried. “I want to know why you made that deal,” Alex says, then seems to reconsider. “No,” she says, the ice spreading to her voice now. “I want you to explain it to me. You better have a damn good reason for doing what you did, Kara, and I want to hear it.”

“I...” Kara tries, her face growing pale. She isn’t sure she’ll have the answer her sister is looking for.

“I mean, you must have known what would happen, right?” Alex asks. “You must have known you’d be brought back to life. You would have guaranteed that you’d be alright before going off on your own.”

“Alex-”

“Because what I can’t quite wrap my head around, Kara, is the fact that you didn’t even say goodbye,” Alex says, and her voice wavers at the end. Kara swallows down the lump in her throat and wills herself not to remember that last pleading, helpless look Alex had sent her way before Kara had left with Mar. “And I know you. You’re not so cruel that you wouldn’t… you must have had a plan,” Alex finishes. “Just tell me you had a plan, Kara, and I can forgive you.”

Kara’s deafening silence is answer enough, but still she feels the need to explain. Anything to wipe that terrible look off of Alex’s face, like she’s being torn in two, still halfway stuck in her grief while the other part of her is newly betrayed.

“I didn’t have a plan,” she concedes, and it isn’t the answer Alex wanted to hear; her face twists with something unfamiliar to Kara but distinctly acidic, and for a moment, Kara wonders if she’s going to punch her. She keeps talking— because if Alex wants the truth, she’s going to get it fully. “I didn’t know I could be brought back. I thought I was going to die, and that would be it. I was prepared for it to be the end.”

Alex’s gaze hardens, then all at once, loses its intensity. She lets out a huge, trembling breath, her shoulders sagging with it, and she looks defeated, like her worst fears were being confirmed. Like Kara had given her the answer she expected, not the one she wanted desperately to hear.

“Of course you did,” she says, looking up at the passing clouds with such an intense look of melancholy that Kara feels her own body sag from its weight. 

“You have to understand, Alex,” Kara starts, hoping that maybe if she keeps talking she’ll say _something_ that eases that wounded look in her sister’s eyes. “When I found out about our Earth, about all our friends and family… I couldn’t do that again. I couldn’t live myself if I lost two worlds and did nothing about it. I would have done anything to undo what happened to Krypton, and this time around, I had that chance. I could actually fix things.”

She takes in a deep, gulping breath, and tumbles forwards, unable to stop herself from revisiting older, darker memories. The loss she’d felt when she’d found out about the destruction of their world feels as acute now as it did all that time ago, and she feels like she’s drowning in it. Doesn’t Alex feel the same way? She must have felt the same way.

“I- I was sent here to protect,” Kara says firmly, and she packs conviction behind every word, trying to justify to Alex that it was worthy, that what she did was needed. “My parents asked me to watch over Kal-El and you _know_ how much it hurt me when I realized I’d failed. But then, I realized— I could still protect my new family, and my new world, and that is exactly what I did. I couldn’t fail again, Alex. Even if it meant dying. I couldn’t fail.”

Alex wipes hard at her eyes, shaking her head and staring up at the sky and pointedly nowhere near Kara.

“You know, I always knew someone was going to have to make a sacrifice,” she says, so hollow that Kara’s vision grows blurry. It feels despondent— like there’s no way for her to bridge this gap. It feels like her death has changed Alex in ways that Kara won’t be able to heal. “I’ve seen battles like that before. I know how a room feels when people are down to their last resort, and that room…” She heaves out a massive sigh. “Full to the brim of idiotic, self-sacrificing _heroes._ All of them wanted to make the big play, the grand gesture, but of course, it had to be you, Kara. Deep down, I always knew that it was going to be you.”

Kara doesn’t know how to respond to that.

It’s the rawest and honest Alex has been with her since they first reunited, and it takes away most of Kara’s resilience because now Alex isn’t hiding how much what Kara did tore her apart. Maybe, Kara is realizing, Alex’s silence wasn’t only out of spite; perhaps it had been to spare her from the jagged heartbreak she can hear in Alex’s words now.

“It was always going to be me,” she confesses, finding something quiet and raw inside of her own head and bringing it to the light. Kara hadn’t ever thought of it that way, but Alex is right. It would never have been anyone _but_ Kara. 

“And who saves the hero, then? Who saves you if you’re so busy looking after everyone else?”

Kara’s shoulders tense, and her hands ball into fists. “Sometimes, no one does,” she says. “And that’s okay.”

“You’re an idiot.”

“Alex,” Kara says, toeing the line between gentleness and unwavering steel. “I was just trying to do the right thing.”

Alex glances over at her at last, her face storming. “Then you’re right, Kara. I am angry.” She swallows hard, looks over at her and this time, doesn’t look away. “I really, _really_ hate you for what you did. Who gives a shit if it was the right thing to do? You still died. I still deal with that, all alone.”

Kara nods, attempts to take the blow in stride. “I get it,” she says again, but once again, Alex wants none of her weak attempts at consolation.

“No, I don’t think you do,” Alex says, rubbing her hands down her face. She’s unhappy, and uncomfortable, and maybe even a little guilty, though Kara doesn’t know what for. “I turned into the woman with the dead sister. I was the woman who lost everything on a day that everyone else got to go home to their loved ones. _I_ had to call our mom and tell her you weren’t coming home, and _I_ had to pick out the flowers and the music for your stupid funeral, and _I_ had to lower your casket into the dirt. I wasn’t _me_ anymore. I stopped being myself the moment I found your body. You may have been the one who was killed, but I was the one who had to deal with all the shit you left behind.”

Kara feels her heart twist as Alex scoffs, shakes her head at some distant memory before continuing. “And everyone around me was just so goddamn nice,” she says, grits out between clenched teeth. “They were so kind, and supportive, and sympathetic, because they thought I was sad. They didn’t understand how much I hated you for it. In fact, I bet they only loved you more for what you did. Because you died in such a beautiful, dignified way, right?” Alex closes her eyes, her face pale. “I bet they wouldn’t feel that way if they’d watched it happen.”

Kara sticks out her chin, regretful yet also defiant. Alex is too close to her to understand that what Kara did was _necessary._ What she did saved more lives than her own could ever be worth.

“Maybe they knew what needed to be done,” she says, and Alex’s eyes flare.

“Don’t give yourself so much credit,” she snarls, getting to her feet. Kara follows suit, standing unbalanced on the slanting surface. “You’re under the same delusions as they were, that this was some kind of storybook ending. There was nothing poetic about your bloody, mangled body, or your shattered legs,” Alex says, and Kara’s stomach drops out from under her. “There was nothing pretty about how your face was so bruised and broken that I only knew it was you because of the symbol on your chest.”

“Are you so sure that it wasn’t you who wanted my death to be perfect?” Kara asks, her voice low and dangerous. “Because maybe you’re the only one who couldn’t handle what happens when someone makes the hard choices! You’ve always put too much of your own life into keeping me safe. Maybe you’re too overly-attached to see that I did what I did for the greater good.”

Shocked silence follows her outburst, and Kara realizes a moment or two too late that she’d made a terrible mistake. She hadn’t meant for her words to come out so harshly, but that’s exactly how Alex interprets them. Her face colors with hurt before she’s in Kara’s face, furious and with tears in her eyes.

“Jesus, Kara,” she says, still shaken but coming back in full force. “Maybe you are heartless.”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Kara pleads, immediately regretful. She’s supposed to be making things better, not tearing them further apart.

“You really think I’d _ever_ see your death as something justified? As something to just… get over? You’re my family, Kara. There’s no greater good for me that doesn’t include you coming home safe. And you think I’m _weak_ for thinking that?”

“Of course I don’t-” Kara says, but Alex doesn’t want to hear it.

“No, fuck you!” she says, putting her hands up and shoving Kara away from her when she tries to reach out to touch Alex’s shoulder, to try and do something to make this right.

And while the shove isn’t all that hard— more half-hearted and emotional than anything else— Kara doesn’t have her powers, nor does she know how to take any degree of force without them. She reels back instinctively; her foot slips on a bit of wetness leftover from the morning dew, and because Kara has never been a graceful person, she goes sliding right off the roof, landing with an _oomph_ in a large bush. 

Really, there’s no reason to panic. Eliza had only been half-joking about being careful on the roof. She knew full well that the particular overhanging patch of shingles that Kara and Alex had always favored wasn’t more than seven or eight feet off the ground. With the shrubbery surrounding the area, it would be impossible to get injured on accident, much less on purpose.

Still, that doesn’t stop Alex from letting out a gasp and jumping down after her.

Kara stays where she is, stunned, with her arms and legs stuck rather firmly amongst the leaves and twigs. She’s fine— though there is a twinge in her tailbone that she’s unaccustomed to and has a bad feeling will turn into a bruise later— and other than a few minuscule cuts on her hands and face from going down upside down, she’s uninjured. 

Alex is at her side in a moment, tugging her out of the bush with a heave and immediately running her hands up and down, scanning Kara for injuries. Kara lets out a huff but lets her sister do it anyway. It reminds her of when they were kids, when Alex first began her protective streak, reminds her even more of them together at the DEO, Kara always brushing off even the worst scrapes with death with a sheepish smile and a reckless energy that was never really sated. It reminds her of old times, when she always walked it off, and when Alex was always there waiting for her when she woke up.

Kara wonders what it had been like for Alex to have no one to wait for. What it had been like for her to realize Kara wasn’t going to wake up this time.

Judging by the sudden shine in Alex’s eyes, Kara guesses that similar thoughts might be running through her sister’s head. 

“ _Shit,_ ” her sister gasps, hands still wrapped around Kara’s biceps as she frantically meets her gaze. “I’m so sorry- I didn’t mean-”

“Alex, I’m okay,” Kara says, as gently as she can. She doesn’t want to break this fragile moment between the two of them, not when just a second ago they were hurling such harsh words at each other. When her sister casts a wide eye down on a small cut on Kara’s cheek, still clearly fearful, she grimaces, tries to play it off. “Or, I will be. It’s just a few scratches.”

“I know. I know,” Alex repeats, but her iron grip doesn’t loosen, and Kara can see that she’s trying hard not to cry. “You’re alright.” Then something crumbles in her eyes, and before Kara can react, Alex is hugging her hard, the tears coming freely now. “You’re really alright?” she asks, incredulous and desperate in a way that makes Kara’s heart break.

Kara, still half in the bush, lets her defenses fall too at the sight of her sister crying. Her shoulders sag, and she pulls Alex in even tighter, closing her eyes. She can remember how tiring it had been, carrying all of that pain— how tiring it still is. She knows how exhausted her sister must be from doing the exact same thing.

“I will be,” she whispers, her voice breaking. Alex’s tears stain the collar of her shirt, and there’s a branch poking her ribs, but Kara doesn’t move. This is more important than any discomfort she may have. This is the first time that Kara can see a glimmer of hope in the future when it comes to her and Alex, and she pulls away just enough to look into her sister’s eyes. She needs Alex to see that she means what she says. “I want to be. But I think I’m going to need some help along the way.”

When Alex meets her eyes, the cynicism is gone. All Kara can see is the remnants of her grief, which have been holding together her insides for all this time. But underneath all that, Kara sees a flicker of something else. She wants more than anything for it to be hope.

Her sister releases a shuddering breath, bringing Kara in for one last hug. “I know you will. And… I need some help too. Maybe we can be that for each other if you want.”

Kara’s smile is watery, but no less beaming. “I would love that, Alex,” she says, burying her face into Alex’s shoulder, breathing it all in. She’d never thought she’d get to have this again, twigs and all. She’d thought she’d given away her sister for good. “I missed you. So much.”

Alex smiles too, and even when she steps away from the hug to help Kara escape fully from the bush, she doesn’t step away. Kara takes that small victory for what it is— progress. It’s not forgiveness, not yet— but it’s something Kara wants to keep trying for. Maybe this is something she can fix after all. “I missed you too,” her sister responds, and for just a moment, Kara lets herself have this. The sun is peeking out through the clouds, the sky is somewhat blue, and Alex is smiling again.

_Progress._

… 

Relatively, that night is a much tamer affair.

After they go inside and get cleaned up, Alex retreats somewhat into herself, but it isn’t as cold or as harsh as before. She helps pick a few burrs out of Kara’s snaggled hair with a sympathetic frown and even leaves out a fresh pair of clothes for Kara when she gets out of the shower. It’s a pair of Alex’s favorite sweatpants and one of the t-shirts Kara won at their homecoming game way back in high school, and Kara feels young when she slips them on— younger than she’s felt in years. It adds on nicely to this whole fresh slate thing that Kara’s been trying out, and she comes out of the bathroom with a small smile and a quiet air of ease.

Eliza creeps through their back door like she’s expecting to find the ruins of a warzone. She peeks her head in first, opening the porch door so carefully that it barely squeaks, and sets down her bags with as much stealth as Alex during a DEO mission. Then, taking a breath, she rounds the corner with already fidgeting fingers, ready to mediate— or, break up a brawl if she had to.

Instead, she finds her daughters together on the couch, both looking at her with raised eyebrows. They’re not talking animatedly or wrestling for the remote like they used to, but they also aren’t glaring at each other in silence. The tension that had hovered over them like a foreboding cloud is mostly gone now— spread out to the winds— and the sight alone of the two of them together is enough for Eliza to breathe a sigh of relief.

She turns towards the door and rummages around for a second before emerging with a few grease-stained paper bags in tow. A smile begins to form on Kara’s face— and her stomach growls as if in greeting; Eliza had stopped by the local diner on her way home.

“Who’s hungry?” Eliza asks with a hopeful smile, and Kara has never been so excited to eat before in her life. After all, she’s about to become reacquainted with the best cheeseburger in the world. Maybe coming back from the dead had more perks than she’d realized.

Dinner… is nice. The burgers are even more incredible than Kara remembered them, Eliza spoils her with an extra-large fry and a side of pie on the side, and Alex— Alex doesn’t seem to actively hate her guts anymore, at least not openly. There’s more warmth to her movements now, in the way she chooses to sit right next to Kara, in the way she allows their feet to brush up against each other whenever Kara reaches for the ketchup, and in the way there’s a hint of a smile on her face as Kara groans and waxes poetic about the food. She still doesn’t talk all that much, but Kara doesn’t mind it so much anymore; it’s less stifling and more thoughtful— more peaceful.

The three of them stay at the table long after the food is finished, and in their comfortable, familial haze, Kara feels brave enough to start asking about what she missed. Just little details is all she’s really after— nothing that she thinks would bring back bad memories— and Eliza and Alex indulge her, Alex cautious but willing to answer any questions Kara has for her.

She learns she’s been gone seven months, and while Kara had already begun to glean that based on the noticeable chill in the air and the strokes of bright color painted on the edges of the trees, it’s jarring to hear it confirmed. Seven months is a long time— and even though Kara knows it could have been much longer, could have not happened at all, she still needs a moment to wrap her head around it.

Her wandering heart brings her back to Lena, back to when their friendship had first fallen apart, back to when every day with radio silence felt like an eternity. Kara knows how long seven months can be— and she wonders what she could have missed.

(Kara doesn’t bring up Lena, though she could have— could have asked some innocent question veiled as simple curiosity, but she doesn’t. She isn’t brave enough to. Not yet.)

So, she asks about other things instead. Kara learns about the new smoothie stand right across from Alex’s apartment, and that the National City baseball team had lost out to Gotham in the World Series, and that for a week or so, Nia had dyed Brainy’s hair blonde. Kara hears a wild story about a client that J’onn had helped out, and Alex tells her about the sushi place she took Kelly to for their six month anniversary, and learns that James is picking up photography again, while Eliza regales them both about a conference she’d attended about bridging the gap between theoretical technology and actual, real-life medical practices being carried out every day.

Kara learns all about the life she’d missed, and it’s a strange experience. She and Alex and Eliza all teeter on the edge between harmless, fond nostalgia and the kind of ache that runs much deeper, but Kara counts it as a success that no one plummets fully over. And as bittersweet as it is, Kara takes all of the stories and holds them tight against her heart; those stories mean that her friends and family were happy, at least some of the time, and it means that life went on. It means that the world didn’t end for them when she was gone, just changed.

The world will always find a way to change.

That is how Alex gently breaks the news to her that their Earth is now also the home of Barry Allen and the rest of them. Bringing up the Flash and his team and all the others is something Kara hadn’t wanted to do, had been worried that it would skim too close to old wounds, but Alex volunteers the information herself.

In the end, it’s worth it for the moment of levity that comes when Alex laughs quietly as Kara’s jaw drops, as she splutters and asks if that means that the Green Arrow is a thing on this new earth now.

When Alex nods, Kara buries her head down in her arms on the table and groans. “As if we needed any other rich playboys with too many toys,” she says, and Alex only smiles wider.

Eliza looks upon the scene with a private, warm smile, and that night, it feels like everything really is perfect.

What that really means is that Kara should have been ready to go a second round with Alex.

Her sister strikes back up their conversation from the roof calmly, as they’re both climbing into bed. Eliza is fast asleep by now, but still, Alex keeps her voice soft. It isn’t as biting as before, but Kara still knows from when she’s clearing her throat that a trap is being set.

“I’ve been thinking about what you said to me earlier,” she starts, innocent and vague enough that Kara can’t possibly prepare for whatever’s coming next. “How you called me _overly-attached_.”

Kara winces at the words, which still are grating even hours after she spoke them. “I didn’t mean that,” she replies, but with the lights out and Alex’s face in shadow, she can’t tell if her sister believes that. So, she sits up straighter in bed and tries to ensure that Alex does. “I mean, I just meant that- that you… you care about me. So much. Which means that your perspective on what happened was never going to be objective, you know?”

“I’m your _sister_ , Kara,” Alex says, and a hint of that steel is back in the way she says those words like an admonishment. “I don’t have to be objective, or unbiased, or any of that crap. I get to march in and make sure that my _sister_ isn’t the one doing anything stupid.”

“Not even when I’m Supergirl and you’re the Director of the DEO?” Kara asks, feeling the way that sleep is making her body heavy and her words short. Alex could have picked a more diplomatic time of day to do this other than half past midnight, especially when Kara really hasn’t slept much for days. Not that Alex can ever be described as being diplomatic.

“Not even then,” is Alex’s curt, simple reply, and Kara frowns.

“Come on,” she says. “We both know there are times where Supergirl can’t be put first. You’re a leader, Alex. You’ve been trained to make the same tough calls as I’ve made.”

“Stop treating this like some… tactical exercise, Kara.” Alex takes a breath, then holds it. Kara thinks she can see the white of her eyes flash in the darkness. “Maybe that’s how you had to rationalize it in order to actually go through with it, but that isn’t how it was. Why don’t you put yourself in my shoes, huh?”

“I can do that,” Kara says. 

“Fine. How would you feel if I was the one who’d died?”

“I wouldn’t have let that happen,” Kara replies stubbornly, knows it isn’t fair but says it anyway. “As long as I have my powers, I’ll be able to keep you safe.”

Alex fixes her with a withering glare, and Kara realizes her error, realizes how badly that must sound. “Well, we’re not all Supergirl, are we? We don’t all get the windswept hair and the free Girl Scout cookies and the reckless bravado, do we? We don’t all get to assume things will work out alright in the end.”

“You know I don’t think that,” Kara replies, trying to work out the tension in her fists by grabbing her fluffiest pillow. The fabric tears a bit when her knuckles flex, but they’re both too worked up to pay it much mind. “I always know the stakes. Always.”

“No, Kara. You know the risk for everyone else but yourself.”

Kara rolls her eyes and barely stifles a groan. Her bed is looking incredibly appealing right now, where she can hide under the covers and roll and her side and even out her breathing until even Alex won’t be able to tell if she’s sleeping or not. “Can we just… drop this? At least for tonight?” she deflects, despite knowing that she’ll listen to Alex whether she likes it or not because that’s what’s fair, and also because Kara is in no position to ignore her sister.

Somehow, impossibly, Alex actually folds. She scoffs but pulls down her covers on the bed anyways, not even glancing over once. “Fine.”

“Fine,” Kara agrees, still too on-edge to even feel happy about getting her way. She stays sitting, awkwardly watching as her sister looks anywhere but at her. 

Alex seems to linger too. Her covers remain untouched, and she doesn’t seem in any rush to go to bed. She turns off the lamp between their two beds but stills after that, and Kara knows that she wants to say something.

“Do you really think I’m too attached?” Alex asks at last. Kara opens her mouth then closes it. 

_Yes,_ she wants to scream, at the same time she wants to say _no._ Theirs is a self-dependency that Kara, well… Kara has grown to rely on quite a bit, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t recognize its danger. She and Alex were always a bridge meant to crumble, and it seems that Kara had been the one to strike the killing blow. 

“I didn’t mean it that way,” she says. “I was tired and frustrated about the fact that we were arguing.”

“Hm. Well, I said some harsh things too, in the heat of the moment,” Alex agrees. She purses her lips and folds her arms across her chest. “But… just because they were cruel doesn’t mean that it wasn’t the truth. So, how did you mean it?”

“I thought we weren’t gonna do this tonight,” Kara tries one last time, despite knowing that this isn’t something that the two of them can sleep on and approach it any more level-headed. “Can’t we just… go to bed?”

“You didn’t answer my question,” Alex points out, and Kara really hopes her sister can’t see that well in the dark because the glare that Kara levels her way is downright immature, and Kara doesn’t want to do this knowing her sister is taking the high road. “And actually, I’m not really that tired. Let’s talk about this now.”

Kara’s glare grows dirtier, and she doesn’t care about acting childish anymore. They’re about to fight in their childhood bedroom anyway, surrounded by baby and school photos and old, cherished stuffed animals— and Alex basically just stuck her tongue at her. Maybe they can allow themselves to not be quite so mature here.

At least, they don’t have to pretend to like each other all that much at the moment.

“What I mean, Alex, is that you- you built your life around me. To protect me, and keep me safe. But sometimes… it can be consuming. And you know that’s true.”

Her sister scoffs, unimpressed. “Yeah, I’ve heard that one before. How about something more original?”

“How about the fact that you can’t understand that what I did was the _right_ call?” Kara asks. “You don’t think that comes across as a little too attached?”

“Right call my ass,” Alex challenges.

Kara grinds her teeth together. “It was one life. One single life compared to trillions. Me for the entire multiverse. That was the right call.”

“No, it _wasn’t_.”

“You- you’re thinking about this from the wrong angle,” Kara says, as gentle as possible despite the frustration curling in her throat that makes her fingers clench. “You’re being too emotional.”

“Well, you’re acting like a Kryptonian!” Alex fires back. Kara can’t fight the anger that’s been boiling in her gut like bile anymore.

“And what’s wrong with that?” she asks, sitting up straight, stubborn and prideful. “That’s who I am. That’s who I’ve always been, way before I was Kara Danvers!”

“And why did you have to become Kara Danvers in the first place?” Alex retorts. “Because your parents were just as self-sacrificing as you! I grew up with you, Kara. I remember the shattered look in your eye when you first showed up here. I remember your nightmares, and your silence, and I heard you cry every night— even on the nights where you tried to hide it. I remember what losing Krypton did to you. How could you go through something like that and turn around and repeat the cycle?”

“There’s a difference,” Kara claims, but her voice falters as the wash of old, sad memories passes through her. She clears her throat and injects even more steel into her voice than before. She won’t bend— not for something like this. “I was one of the only survivors. You think I don’t remember what it’s like to lose a world?” Her face darkens. “I’ve done it too many times. I wasn’t going to do it again, and I wasn’t going to allow you to go through it either.”

Alex actually softens— or tries to, at least. Kara can’t see her face, but she can the deep, slow breath she takes. So, Kara does it too.

“I wish I could understand. I really do,” Alex says, blowing out a long breath through her nose. “But what you did just… it defies everything that I thought I knew about you.”

“I just think that you ignore the role I agreed to play, Alex,” she says with a sigh. “I’m Supergirl. I’m always going to do whatever I can to save lives. And if that means my life to make sure no one else ever has to go through what I did, then it will be worth it. That’s what a hero is supposed to do.”

“I-” Alex balls her hands into fists. “I do _not_ want to hear one of your stupid speeches right now, Kara. I’m not a gullible little fifth-grader.”

It shouldn’t be funny, not in this situation, but it still is, seeing Alex act so tough and say those things while she’s curled up in her childhood bed, as they’re surrounded by baby pictures and old blankets and sports equipment that’s just as muddy as it was ten years ago. Alex is acting like they aren’t still so incredibly young; Kara knows just how little times they’ve actually spent together, even if they’ve grown up during it. 

There’s a beat of silence, like Alex is letting her words circle through her head a few extra times. “I didn’t want you to be a hero,” she says at last. “I wanted you to be my sister. I just wanted you to live.”

Alex is right. They’re _sisters,_ but more than that, too. They swore to protect each other first and above all else, and isn’t that kind of love inherently destructive? Not bad, just… fated. Not built to last, and certainly not to end with grace. The reason Kara does what she does is to keep Alex safe, to keep her close to her.

“You told me, once, that you’d been abandoned before, and that you didn’t want to be abandoned again,” Alex whispers, and even in the dark Kara closes her eyes, doesn’t want to get even a fleeting glimpse of the look on her sister’s face. “I promised you that wouldn’t happen. Not _ever_. Not from me.”

“I know,” Kara whispers back, and a lump grows in her throat that she can’t for the life of her swallow down and it’s because she knows her sister, and she knows what she’s going to say next. 

“Now it’s my turn.”

Kara nods slowly, resolutely, but it’s like she can already taste blood in her mouth, knows that this will only end badly. Alex sits up and turns on the lamp. When Kara looks over, she realizes that Alex has been crying this whole time.

“You need to promise me, Kara,” Alex says, and even as she wipes hard at the tears trailing down her face, Kara marvels at her big sister— how she can be so strong, so fierce, so resolute. So committed to her and her safety. “Please, Kara. Promise me you’ll never do that again.”

Kara just sits there, and despite Alex welcoming her voice, expecting it, she can’t get it to dislodge itself from her throat.

She looks down at her lap instead, and Alex’s face twitches. “Alex,” she whispers, fidgeting with her hands and trying not to cry herself, and that’s all her sister really needs to hear before her face hardens back into stone.

While she doesn’t look up, Kara hears the springs creaking and sheets rustling, knows that Alex has gotten into bed and curled up away from Kara.

“Goodnight, Kara,” she says flatly and not even Kara can miss the signal that this is a lot more than just a simple goodnight. If she doesn’t fix this right here and right now, she might lose her sister forever. There are some things that can’t be forgiven. For Alex, this will be one of them.

She makes up her mind and jumps up from her own bed, leaping over Alex and getting in under the covers beside her. Kara grabs Alex’s shoulders and stares into her eyes even as her sister scowls and tries to turn the other way. Instead, they face each other, and beneath the weak lamplight, Kara hopes that Alex can see the determination on her face.

“No, Alex- Alex, _wait._ I can’t promise that,” she says, grip tightening when Alex tries to get up at her words. But Kara has finally found her voice; she won’t stop using it now. “Alex- I can’t. But next time— if there is a next time— I promise that I won’t do it alone. I won’t fight alone, and I’ll let others help me, and I won’t shut you out.”

Some of the anger releases from Alex’s rigid jawline, but her eyes are still like flint. So, Kara keeps talking.

“I didn’t come back just to die again. You have to believe me.” While Alex doesn’t outwardly respond, she rolls closer so their legs can tangle together, just like when they were kids. Kara chooses to take that as a good sign. “Alex, I know things are bad right now, and I know you’re hurt, but I can promise you this: I came back to be with you. And I want to be with you for as long as we possibly can be. Until you’ve got dentures and a cane and wrinkles all over your face and a bad back and-”

“Okay, I get it,” Alex says dryly. But the corners of her mouth quirk up despite it. “Jesus, you’re going to be just as insufferably chipper when we’re old, aren’t you?”

There’s a sadness to her words; Alex has experienced firsthand the reality of Kara dying unspeakably young, of being the one to bury her little sister and not the other way around. Alex knows the stakes, but that’s what makes it all that more meaningful.

“Depends. Will you be just as grumpy in the morning?” Kara asks, and chances a poke at her sister’s ribs. This time, Alex laughs, and it’s as much of a balm as anything else. 

“Probably,” she admits with a smirk. Her shoulders relax, and when Kara’s eyes start to drift shut, Alex begins to run her hands through her hair, just like she’s always done to lull both of them to sleep. 

Kara can feel sleep coming, and thinks Alex herself might have already drifted off. But then her sister whispers something else into the night air, and despite the cold wind coming in through the windows, it warms Kara like nothing else.

“I love you, Kara,” Alex says. “I haven’t- I should have told you that even more when I had the chance. But I want you to know that even if I’m- even if I’m like _this_ , that part won’t ever change. You know that, don’t you?”

Kara snuggles in closer, lets herself be the little sister for the first time in forever. She wants Alex to have this moment— wants this moment for herself as well. While she knows that she and Alex will always be a constant in a universe that loves to change, it’s still nice to hear from her sister that even if things are rocky right now, the love is still there.

“I know,” she responds simply, but no less genuine. Kara always means what she says when it comes to how much she cares about her sister. “I love you too.”

And for tonight, at least, that’s enough. 

… 

Eventually, Kara asks about Lena.

Once she and Alex get through those rough first few days together, things smooth out some. They get into a routine of sorts with Eliza: a late brunch, a walk along the cliff sides, maybe running a few errands in town. There’s the matter of explaining away what had been Kara’s very real death and funeral, because, in a small town like Midvale, her return wouldn’t be innocuous. Luckily enough for Kara, there is the fact that multiple earths merged together— and quite frankly, weirder things had already happened than one random reporter mysteriously returning home out of the blue.

Kara’s learned over the years that the people of Earth can overlook a surprising amount of strangeness when the world at large is already so bizarre.

She’s surprised that she waited as long as she did, if she’s being honest with herself. Sure, she had enough on her plate as is with Alex and Eliza and navigating a world that still believed her to be dead, but when it came to Lena, Kara had never liked to leave things be. She’d been back a week now and honestly, Kara was going a little crazy. Mar had given her such tantalizing details about the other woman that Kara was desperate to understand— had hinted at a story that Kara knows she doesn’t know all the sides to. All she does know is that Lena had tracked down an interdimensional being and had followed him across the globe, all for the sake of bringing Kara back to life.

Kara… isn’t really sure what to make of that. She doesn’t know if she should let her heart grasp onto those vague details and use them to fuel what hope is left inside of her that maybe Lena still cares about her, because why else would she drop everything for Kara? They hadn’t even been friends at the end of the world— hadn’t been much of anything at all, yet despite that, and despite what Kara can remember about that horrible night Lena had told her she never wanted to see her again, Lena’s actions contradict that.

While she doesn’t know much, Kara does know that what Lena did for her hadn’t been the actions of someone who hated her. At least, she doesn’t think so.

In the end, the best thing is to ask her sister, because Alex had always had a way of understanding the things that Kara didn’t. 

Really, all Kara wants to know is if her death hurt Lena as much as it had hurt her sister.

She brings it up in the middle of one of their nightly talks, which have become a new tradition. It’s a chance for them to re-align themselves with the other, for Alex to both finish her mourning and deal with her sister’s return— and for Kara, it’s a way to feel a little less like a stranger in a place she’s called home longer than Krypton.

“How is she?” she asks, not really needing to elaborate on who she’s asking about. Alex knows better, and besides— Kara really only ever would ask about one person. She only talks about one person with that much concern in her voice lately. 

“Lena?” her sister asks anyway, and at Kara’s ensuing nod, rolls her eyes, which causes something in Kara’s chest to twist. She’d assumed that Alex and Lena had stayed close in the wake of her death— at least enough to be on speaking terms— but something in the set to Alex’s jaw tells Kara that maybe that hadn’t been the case. And that scares Kara, because if her sister didn’t look out for Lena, Kara doesn’t know who did.

“I just want to know if she’s alright,” Kara says, pressing. “If… she handled what happened in a good way.”

“You’re worried about her. Well, I wouldn’t be.” Alex scoffs, the kind that’s loaded with a history that not even Kara knows about— the kind two people can only share in grief. She laughs, halfway between bitter and concerned. “Lena’s been too busy to _be_ sad.”

Kara furrows her eyebrows and frowns, a familiar feeling of worry making itself affectionately known in her stomach again like an old friend. Once upon a time, it had been her job to make sure Lena was alright, that she wasn’t overworking— that she was taking care of herself. Even in the fallout of the reveal of her identity, when they weren’t speaking— weren’t interacting on any level— Kara had still checked in on her. She used to sit on the roof of the building off to the corner of the LCorp campus, sitting in its shadows and listening to her heartbeat. Some days, it was enough just to know it was still beating.

Kara hadn’t even known if Lena would grieve for her— and honestly, she doesn’t know what she wants Alex to tell her.

“Mar told me she’d been chasing after him.” Alex raises an eyebrow at Kara’s casual mention of the Monitor, who Kara belatedly realizes she does not think of as a friend. Kara grimaces, but continues. “He said she was trying to bring me back.”

Her sister shrugs, turning back into her back to stare up at the ceiling, away from Kara. Maybe she doesn’t want Kara to see the anger clear on her face, but she does anyway. Kara can only stare and wonder what exactly went down between the two most important people in her life. She considers asking Alex, but decides against it; they had only just reached a sense of peace themselves. Kara doesn’t know yet if she even has the right to ask about what happened after she died, especially since she seems to be the root of this particular rift.

“She was— at least I think so. Lena… she just dropped off the face of the Earth. I don’t know if it was because she was out building a time machine or if she was drinking herself to death out in the gutters every night. All I know is that she had a difficult time accepting what happened,” Alex says, and her voice doesn’t hide her conflict any more than her face does. “We all did, you know? Nobody wanted to believe that you were... that that was how it ended. Least of all me.” 

“I know,” Kara replies simply; she’s grieved before, and she’ll grieve again. She knows exactly how hard it is to move on. “But you didn’t check up on her?” she asks, unable to keep the admonition out of her voice. She’d thought Alex would lookout for the people Kara loved when she was gone— and that included Lena, no matter their past. “She needed someone. No matter what happened before-“

“I tried,” Alex says. “Believe me, I did. I mean, I-“ she stops and swallows hard, grabbing the alarm clock they had as kids off of the bedside table and fiddling with it, avoiding Kara’s eyes. “I needed someone too. And as much as I don’t want to admit it, Lena was the one who _got_ it. More than anyone else.”

“Alex,” Kara says, the same way she’s been saying it this entire time. Her own soft, gentle way of saying sorry again. Alex accepts it with a quiet sigh, glancing over impulsively as she has been the entire night— like she’s been doing for days. Like she’s making sure Kara is really there.

“Lena was in rough shape for a while, what with the role her brother played in what happened. She… felt responsible for your death, and you know how she copes. About as well as me, if not worse.”

“Oh, Lena,” Kara murmurs, lost in thought. Kara knows exactly how both Alex and Lena deal with their emotions, and purses her lips against the bad taste in her mouth. She should have known Lena would think that what happened with Kara and with Lex was her own fault. Lena had always had a talent for taking the blame.

“For a moment though, I thought things would change,” Alex continues. “She helped us catch Lex. I thought that would be a turning point for her, that she would finally stop suppressing every goddamn feeling she…” Alex sighs, pinches her nose. “It doesn’t matter now. All I know is she drifted away from all of us.”

“But… was she okay?” Kara asks, because knowing Lena is _physically_ and _technically_ alive and well is very different than what she’s really asking Alex for. “Was she doing better?”

Kara just wants to know if she messed things up for good this time.

“I think deep down, the only thing that was going to make things better was you. Lena knew that, and she was hell-bent on it.” Alex glances over again, and Kara can tell what’s coming next. They haven’t talked much about what happened to Kara _after._ Kara wasn’t sure it was something Alex wanted to hear about, but maybe it is. “We all fought to get you back, in our own ways. Did it make a difference?”

Kara thinks of the flashes of memory that hadn’t even left her in death, the flashes of smiles and echoes of laughter, and the phantom touches that lingered. She knows why she came back, and it wasn’t for the whole world. 

For once, it was just for herself.

“Of course it did,” she says. “You make all the difference in the world.”

Earlier, Alex would have lashed out again, muttered angry words, and hurled the run-off of her grief back at Kara. She would have asked why she hadn’t made a difference before. But instead, she just smiles like that was exactly what she needed to hear and turns towards the window, face tilted toward the stars.

Alex answers Kara’s unasked question at last, as the two of them watch the moonlight shine through their window. It hits Kara’s body in slats, the shadow and the light divided neatly by the window blinds.

“I called her. Before we went to bed.” She pauses, waiting for Kara to react. She must think she’s going to be angry because she defends herself before Kara can even glance over, before it sinks in that Lena _knows_. “I needed to make sure all of this was real before… she didn’t need false hope. And besides, there were things that you and I needed to talk about without Lena Luthor kicking down our door.”

Kara smiles a little as her stomach flips at Lena’s name alone.

Her sister glances over at Kara’s quiet smile and frowns, worry lines around her eyes. “Look, while you were gone… things are different now. The world changed. People changed. Some more than others.” Alex raised herself up on one elbow and looked across the room. Kara was hugging her pillow on her own twin bed, looking thoughtful. “I can’t tell you what’ll happen. I don’t know.”

Alex is right, like she usually is, and she is voicing the same thoughts that have been bouncing around in Kara’s head for a while now. There has never been a way to predict anything about her and Lena. They’d defied most expectations from the start, and even now, with years of memories both good and bad between them, Kara knew she still couldn’t prepare for Lena any better.

And yeah, there’s no denying that they’ve changed. They could be entirely different people for all Kara knows. Maybe Lena is a stranger to her, and maybe there is a chance that she would be for the rest of their lives.

But Kara’s love hasn’t changed. Not in the slightest, and she is willing to take that chance.

This time around, Lena deserves to know it all.

And, so does her sister.

“I really love her, Alex,” Kara says, and even though she whispers it the truth seems to come bursting from her all at once, an explosion. “Lena… she’s the most important thing that’s happened to me in a long time. She changed my life, and she’s my best friend, and I love her. But… I love her more than a best friend should.”

It’s the first time she’s said it out loud, the first time she’s really, truly told anyone, and it feels a little life-changing. It feels capable of shaking the world, and she waits to watch the ripples play out and rattle the foundation, waits for something to crumble or at least move, but Alex… Alex just purses her lips and gives Kara an exasperated, affectionate smile, like it isn’t quite the shattering revelation that it is for Kara.

“Gee, I’m glad you finally figured it out, you idiot,” she says, rolling her eyes for emphasis. Kara’s eyes go wide, and Alex seems to fight off a bout of laughter. “Jesus, Kara. You’re an alien, and you can fly, and you just came back from the dead. You really think the most shocking thing for me to find out is that you’re in love with Lena Luthor?”

Kara stares, her mouth dropping open. “Well… maybe? It was sort of a surprise for me.”

Alex groans. “Anyone within a few hundred feet of you could spot the fact that you were a goner, Kara. Did you know that Cat Grant had to pull some strings to get an avalanche of photos of you away from the press?”

“What?” Kara shrieks, her face growing hot. Cat Grant has always had a talent for working her claws into Kara’s life, has always _loved_ meddling, but this feels… well, this feels kind, actually. Less the skillful, sharp actions of a media mogul and more of a concerned, likely annoyed mentor, maybe even a friend.

“Lois told me,” Alex continues innocently, unaware that even that simple comment made Kara’s jaw drop again. “She said Cat Grant threatened a hostile takeover of the Daily Planet unless Perry White made his gossip columnist stand down.”

“ _Lois_ knew about me and- and Lena?!” Kara’s mind starts to spin, because where Lois Lane goes her cousin usually follows, and Rao… is that why Clark acted so strange whenever she talked about Lena? Is that why he had been so unusually supportive of her and Lena being friends in the first place? Is that why when she asked him about learning to dance he-

“Uh, yeah. Obviously. Keep up, Kara.” Alex throws a pillow her way, and Kara is too shocked to dodge it. The pillow hits her right between the eyes, bringing her back to her present conversation, and she lets out a little huff when a few feathers get in her hair. “I’m pretty sure the whole freaking world knew before you did. You know, Mom always asked if you two were together yet. Like, every time I called her.”

Kara’s face grows even pinker as she recalls the amused expression Eliza always had around her and Lena during the holidays, the way she would watch the two of them bantering by the oven, waiting for the turkey to be ready, or teasing each other while the others began passing out gifts, the way Eliza would always smile like she knew a joke that Kara didn’t. Rao… no wonder Eliza was always so eager to talk about Lena with Kara.

“Hey,” Kara defends, albeit weakly. It comes out as more of a whine. “This is kind of big for me, you know. I know I can be sort of… oblivious, sometimes-”

“Understatement of the century,” Alex snorts, and gets a pillow right back to the face in punishment.

“-and I don’t always see what’s right in front of me. I admit it.” Kara takes a deep breath, and Alex, getting the hint, stops with her teasing. “But I know what I want, now. I know how I feel about her, and I’ve never felt so strongly about anything in my life.”

“Kara,” Alex says, her tone softening. She moves over to Kara’s bed and wraps an arm around her, just like she did when they were kids and Alex would teach her the names of unfamiliar constellations. “I’m proud of you. You know that, right? And I think you deserve to be happy.”

“I know you are, silly,” Kara answers, her voice muffled into her sister’s shoulder. Alex is the last person who Kara worried wouldn’t be accepting of how Kara felt and who she felt it for. No, what Kara doesn’t know is what Alex will tell her to do next. Her sister has always guarded over Kara’s secrets, both big and small, steadfastly, and Kara is waiting for her to do the same now.

“Are you going to tell her?” Alex asks, and Kara stays quiet. This time around, it’s entirely her decision. She’s got a fresh slate— a blank page— and she knows exactly what she wants to make of it.

“I’m so tired of secrets, Alex,” she says at last. “And no matter if it was misguided, I did what I did out of love. I did it for you. For her. Even if it hurts, she should know that. I owe her that much.”

“God, death really has changed you,” her sister says, and maybe it’s meant as a joke but it comes off her tongue completely genuine and maybe even a little moved instead.

Kara, however, isn’t feeling so confident in her newfound determination. Lena and the truth had spent so many years occupying separate spaces in Kara’s life that now she’s not sure she even knows how to bring the two together. She can still remember the last time she was honest with Lena, after all. She knows this isn’t the type of thing that can be taken back.

“I’m scared,” she admits. “Last time I saw her— the last time we really talked— she didn’t want anything to do with me. She told me she never wanted to see me again. The last thing I want to do is to hurt her any more than I have. What if this only makes things worse?

Alex sighs, wrapping her arm a little tighter around Kara and squeezing once for good measure. “Like I said, I can’t tell you what Lena will do or how she feels. But,” she says, looking Kara in the eye, “I do remember the way she was after you… after you died. I will always remember that it was her with me in that rubble. No one else.”

An almost imperceptible shudder goes through her sister, and Kara wiggles in closer, leaning her head on Alex’s shoulder and hoping that this normal, regular gesture of affection— one that they shared thousands of times before and she hopes they’ll share thousands more times in the future— will be enough to sway Alex from straying into bad memories.

For something that could be considered so mundane, Kara really had missed hugging her sister.

“She might hate me,” she whispers into Alex’s shirt.

“Kara,” Alex says, calm, like she’s never been so sure of anything in her life. “No one who hates you could ever look at you the way Lena did.”

Kara can remember Lena’s eyes too— can remember every shade of green and flicker of emotion that crossed them. She thinks of the way Lena would look at her, smiling, at game night, or when they were grabbing coffee or the way they’d crinkle at the end of a movie. She thinks of how they sparkled when they were dancing, or when Lena gazed over at her at those holiday parties, like the rest of the world had faded away and Kara was the only person in the world.

Even when Kara remembers what happened next— when they fought and cried and she could see how the hurt blossomed across Lena’s face like a bruise— she also remembers how Lena wouldn’t look her in the eye, which Kara had been grateful for. She knows that seeing the betrayal in her best friend’s eyes would have been worse than anything Lena could have said to her because theirs had always been a relationship founded on the fleeting moments— the quiet, private smiles, and the quick touches, and the love in their eyes.

And the last time they’d shared a glance, even when it was across the room and amidst the chaos and fear and anger of witnessing the universe being torn apart, Kara knows it wasn’t hate in Lena’s eyes. Not at all.

She knows Lena doesn’t hate her. Deep down, Kara knows what that look meant because it’s the same way she’s always looked at Lena.

Alex leans over and kisses her temple before getting up, leaving Kara to wander through her thoughts alone. “Things will work out one way or another, Kara. You just have to trust that,” she says, climbing back under the covers of her own bed and turning off the lamp. “Now if I were you, I’d get some rest. I have a feeling she’s already on her way here, and you’re going to need all the sleep you can get.”

Kara listens to her sister, curls up and hugs a pillow to her chest and tries to imagine what Lena must be thinking— can barely comprehend the thoughts racing through her own mind. Her stomach twists itself into knots, and she swallows down a lump in her throat, but Kara isn’t nervous. More expectant; she knows that whatever’s coming will come, and things will change. She knows they will, but for once, Kara doesn’t mind that certainty of transformation. 

All her life change has worked against her, sending her spinning into the cosmos and crashing onto an unknown planet with the knowledge that _nothing_ ever stays the same. Kara had never really liked it; change made her feel powerless, made her feel like a toy to be played with until she broke as she lost friends and allies and watched the Earth offer up new challenges that would cause yet another shift in the world and the people who lived there. 

But Lena had always meant change too, in the most fantastic way. She’s the one who first encouraged Kara to be a reporter; she became her best friend, and at a time when Kara was doubting whether or not Kara Danvers was a worthwhile charade to put up with anymore, Lena reminded her how much she could matter to a person without the cape. Lena helped her bring down the bad guys and got into trouble and sometimes made mistakes but that was okay because at the end of the day, Lena brought with the kind of change that shaped Kara’s life for the better, in the way that only falling in love can do. 

She loves Lena in an indelible way, in a way that she knows will be impossible to erase or forget or even move on from completely. Kara loves Lena so much that she feels she’ll burn up from the intensity of it, and if Lena doesn’t feel the same way, if Kara is left with the remnants of a forest fire and the ashes of trees all around her, then so be it. Lena still altered the course of her life in a way that’ll endure, even if its monument will be found in a broken heart. Lena… makes Kara happy, joyful, fierce and strong and brave and above all, hopeful.

Lena made Kara believe wholeheartedly in that symbol she wore on her chest, and all Kara can do now is hope that somehow, they’ll manage to fall back into each other. If Kara could accidentally fall in love, then she can continue to love Lena with purpose. This time around, she can be brave enough to tell the truth, to take the leap and hope for something not so painful.

Kara can always hope. Maybe their movie won’t have such a sad ending.

. . .

She’s taking a walk on the beach when Lena arrives.

Kara knows without a doubt that it’s her; even with her powers still mostly gone and her hearing more muted than it usually is, Kara knows what Lena’s heartbeat sounds like. She can hear it pumping furiously, loud even over the roar of the engine and the squealing brakes of the car she must be driving as she comes skidding to a stop in the Danvers’ driveway. Lena’s heart is louder than the crash of the waves or the blustering winds as she knocks on the door, as she exchanges a few quick words with Alex and turns towards the beach.

She can hear it beat as Lena makes her way down the cliffside towards the surf, and she can hear it skip to a stop the moment she sees Kara, standing with her feet in the water and her hair down, waiting. Kara knows what Lena must be thinking: here is Kara, looking small and pale and maybe a little too frail, but very much alive. How she’s realizing that Kara is different but the same, and above all, that this is real. Kara can hear Lena’s breath hitch when that realization hits.

Kara looks up; their eyes meet, and she can’t help the nervous way her own heart begins to hammer against her ribcage as Lena stops in her tracks, still a hundred or so yards away but realer than she’s been to Kara in a very long time.

Thunder cracks somewhere in the distance, and the fog rolling in from the ocean covers what’s left of the sunlight. There’s a storm coming in— but Kara can’t decide if she sees more of the tempest in the rising waves or in the woman standing across from her.

Lena walks forwards— walks like she couldn’t stop if she tried, like there’s something magnetic about Kara that’s too powerful to resist. Kara knows because she feels the same way; her feet drag over themselves as she walks parallel to the waves coming in over her feet, getting closer to the pebbled walkway Lena is making her way down.

Even as her body enters autopilot— even as the roar of the waves seems to pause and Kara grows too numb to feel the cold of the water and she can’t see anything but the woman in front of her— Kara finds it in herself to wonder. She’d spent the morning out here, walking and thinking and trying to decide what to say, but now that Lena’s here in front of her, it all falls away.

She’s been imagining what this would be like if they were just two ordinary people, if Kara Danvers and Lena Luthor were just two best friends, reuniting at last and nothing more.

Kara wonders what it would be like, to fall in love and not have the weight of the world and ugly family histories and war and death wedge itself in the way. Kara wonders if someone normal could ever feel as strongly as she does about Lena because ordinary people don’t travel through the universe and happen to fall in love despite everything. What she feels for Lena has never felt accidental; it feels like fate, like something that had been written for her in the stars.

Kara’s come to the realization that maybe she’s always been destined to get tangled up in Lena Luthor’s life, and as they finally reach each other, that’s all she can think about. All she knows is that this feels destined; this feels like a long time in the making, an epic on its last few pages.

There’s only one way for Kara to know if she gets a good epilogue.

They stand a handful of feet apart, and Kara can’t ignore how fast her own heart is pounding, can’t ignore that Lena’s matches hers in ferocity. Kara just stares at Lena, noticing the small, insignificant, new details— like the fact that Lena is wearing a new shade of lipstick and has bags under her eyes that not even her expensive makeup can hide, the way that her hands are trembling and Lena doesn’t even try to hide it, much less control the way they shake. Kara’s mouth drops open a little as she soaks in the fact that this is _Lena_ in front of her again; her hands dig deep in her pockets and her eyes go wide, and she tries to decide what to do, what to say-

“Kara? Is that really you?” Lena asks, like she still doesn’t believe it, and the quiet pleading behind her voice is enough to send Kara hurtling forwards. Her feet jerk forwards in big, staggering steps as she closes the distance and brings Lena in for a tight hug.

“It’s really me,” she whispers, buries her face in Lena’s hair. It’s the closest she’s ever held Lena, the strongest. Kara has spent her entire life on Earth holding herself back, being so gentle with Alex and Streaky and later, with Lena. Especially with Lena. But now, without her powers, without that fear of hurting someone looming over her shoulder, Kara lets herself have this, lets herself wrap her arms around Lena’s waist with such force that she lifts her up for a moment.

Kara closes her eyes, breathes in Lena’s perfume, and tries not to notice how Lena’s entire body is still stiff, how her arms are just barely touching Kara’s shoulders, like she can’t bear to get so close to Kara again. 

One of Lena’s hands is wrapped so tightly in the hem of Kara’s sweatshirt that she thinks it might tear, however. It’s the only thing anchoring the two of them together, and Kara chooses to focus on that instead, not the distance that can be felt so acutely between them even if they are wrapped up in each other.

Eventually, she pulls away, when she realizes that Lena’s heart is still beating too fast and her spine is still ramrod straight and Lena’s breathing is labored. Perhaps that hug had been more for her own comfort than for anyone else— so Kara squeezes once more and then lets her arms drop back down to her sides. Lena takes a small step back, and in the gap, the tension builds along with the silence. Kara just keeps staring and tries to figure out what to say.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Kara decides on. “I know it must have been a shock, getting the call.” She takes another deep breath in the silence. The beach is impossibly quiet even with the roar of the ocean in her ears, and Kara laces her fingers tightly together behind her back, deciding to face this head-on. “I was gone, and now- I’m here now, which must be… confusing. I won’t pretend to know how you may be feeling-”

“What is your problem?” 

Kara flinches, mind spinning. That isn’t really what she’d expected Lena to say, even if she knew that eventually, the emotion from the reunion would wear off and the anger would take its place, just as it had with Alex. She opens her mouth to speak, to try and get ahead of what’s coming, but Lena raises up a hand before she can even draw in a breath, shaking her head and laughing a humorless laugh. Kara’s stomach drops at the sound because she’s heard it before, knows that this is Lena at her most hurt.

“Why are you like this?” Lena asks again, crossing her arms and narrowing her eyes, looking at Kara with genuine anger now. “Why are you acting like everything is normal?”

“I’m not- of course this isn’t normal,” she tries, but Lena isn’t having it. Maybe this isn’t what the other woman imagined would happen if Kara rose from the dead. Lena probably hadn’t expected Kara in a ratty sweatshirt and sandals, looking a little pale but no worse for wear, awkwardly beating around the bush. “I don’t know what to do!” She throws her arms up in the air— and immediately brings them back to her sides. “Lena,” she says again. “I’m just so happy to see you.”

“ _You’re_ happy to see _me_?” Lena shouts, a little shrill, and Kara decides to just shut up for a little while, because Lena is rarely this way— rarely lets her emotions get the best of her, and Kara doesn’t want to get in the way of that. “You- you absolute… you’re the one that died!” She seems lost for words for a moment, caught between staring at Kara like she wants to punch her and just drinking in her presence. It’s the same way Alex had treated her, those first days with Eliza. “How do you think everyone else felt, huh? Or did that thought not pass through your reckless, stubborn, _stupid_ —” she kicks her shoe into the sand for emphasis, flinging it Kara’s way— “head? God, Kara!”

“This isn’t what I wanted.” Kara takes a deep breath, and her arms tighten around herself, rooting her to the spot. She feels immovable, even as she knows that any moment now, Lena could walk away. It feels like they’re walking a thin line, a tightrope capable of snapping at any moment and leaving them both to plummet. “I never wanted it to go this way.”

“Then what did you want? Or does that not even matter to you?”

“I… of course it matters! I was only doing what I had to. It was the only choice.”

“You and your unthinkable choices,” Lena says at last, and when she finally looks up, Kara can see that she’s making Lena cry. She’s hurting Lena again even as she’s trying again to fix things between them. “Did you ever think that just once, it doesn’t have to be you?”

“I know I went about it the wrong way. I _know_ that. But Lena… people were dying. Our world was gone. I only knew one way to change that.” Kara closes her eyes, swallows hard against the lump in her throat. Lena may understand her, but she can’t understand this— that Kara was sent here with a purpose, a pre-written destiny that would always end the same way. She owes it to Krypton, to her parents. “I will always make that choice.”

“You _promised_ me!” Lena yells, loud and piercing even over the crashing waves, and Kara’s heart jolts at the emotion behind it. “You said things would be okay. You said you’d be alright. You’re a lot of things, Kara, but I never thought you’d break a promise like that.”

It hurts, Rao does it hurt, seeing Lena like this, but she tries to remind herself that this is good, in a terrible way. It’s maybe even _healthy_ — and at the very least, it was bound to happen. They couldn’t keep up their guards forever. Lena’s voice gets quiet again, and the sea draws back from the shore, as if it’s inhaling, preparing for the next collision with the sand. Kara does the same thing. 

“I made promises of my own, you know,” she says, and Kara remembers all too well the slow calm to Lena’s words when she vowed to Alex that she’d protect Kara. The way she’d hidden the trembling of her fingers behind her back. “I swore that I’d bring you home. I didn’t know you’d already thrown your life away without even a _moment_ of hesitation. Instead, I had to go back knowing that I let Supergirl die. That I’d let _you_ die.”

I’m sorry,” she says again, apologizing for more than just her deal with the Monitor, and for more than her death. This is a far more selfish regret, and she can feel tears of her own build. As soon as she blinks, they will begin falling in earnest, so she keeps her eyes wide, taking in the woman across from her who’s doing the exact same thing. In the most heartbreaking of circumstances, she and Lena are finally back on the same page. “I never wanted it to end like that. I- I tried to fix it. It just wasn’t enough.”

“Maybe it would have been.” Lena’s voice trembles, and Kara’s head jerks up at the sound. The way Lena is looking at her makes her wonder if maybe, Lena is talking about more than just the battle too. “Have you ever thought about that?”

“Lena. Please, I-”

“No. Just, stop. It’s not worth it, anymore.” Lena closes her eyes and turns away from Kara. “You.. you haven’t changed at all, yet it feels like I can barely recognize you.” 

“You know me,” Kara says, and she wishes it didn’t come out so keening. She can’t believe that she’s letting Lena slip away from her again, even with her last chance to fix things. “You’ve always known me. I’m… I’m just Kara.”

“I loved Kara,” Lena says over her shoulder even as they begin to heave. Through her own tears, the words knock the breath out of her with a broken little sigh. “More than anything. And the worst part is, for the first time in my life, I thought that would be enough.”

Oh, Lena.

Kara wants to surge forwards, wants to pull Lena into her arms again and never let go, wants to finally tell her how she really feels about her. But her arms hang limply at their sides, and her tongue stays silent, and Kara stands by and lets her heart break at Lena’s last confession. 

“It was more than enough,” she says, pleading silently for a spark, or a nudge, or a shove to push her forwards. She told herself that if she came back, this would be different, that she would stop hiding behind lies and take this new chance at life seriously. But the words get stuck in her throat, so she circles around them instead. “Lena, you were always enough.”

“Then why did you just give up?” Lena asks, more an accusation than a genuine question. Her voice breaks halfway through, and for just a moment, Kara can see a sliver of the grief and the pain that this is causing Lena flash in her eyes. 

“I did it for you!” Kara pleads, even though she knows that that isn’t what Lena wants to hear. If anything, that’s the one thing she probably doesn’t want to hear. Knowing that Kara sacrificed herself for _her_ won’t bring any comfort, not even after the fact. “Everything that I did was out of love. You know that.”

“I don’t know what you think love is, but that isn’t it,” Lena replies, and that ache that Kara had hoped would stay away is back in full force. It cripples what’s left of her defenses, and leaves Kara painfully adrift. She’s no better off than the crashing waves in the distance. “And I won’t torture myself with letting you convince me that love, for you, is anything but spilled blood on the ground.”

Kara has nothing to say to that, and Lena just nods to herself, satisfied about something, but not necessarily happy about it. More like Kara’s silence is exactly what she’d expected. 

“That’s what I thought,” she says with a sense of finality. “I suppose-”

“You want to know why I gave up my life here on Earth?” Kara interjects. If this is really what Lena wants, then Kara will do it. She’ll put all her cards on the table. “It’s because I didn’t think I deserved it. It was because I didn’t deserve you,” she whispers, and Lena looks at her with a mixture of shock and disbelief. She hadn’t been expecting that.

“And so you threw away the chance you had to learn how to be?” Lena asks, and well, Kara hadn’t ever thought of it that way. What she deserved has always been black and white. It isn’t something that can be learned or unlearned… it’s just whatever she can stomach taking for herself without feeling guilt split her open. “Kara, just because you felt like you didn’t deserve that… it doesn’t mean that you deserved to die.”

“No-”

“You need to draw a line somewhere,” Lena says, as forceful as she’s ever been, as angry and as hurt and all on Kara’s behalf. “You need to decide where it stops, because you don’t always get a second chance, Kara. I saw it for myself. Sometimes, you don’t get back up. So what’s going to make you decide enough is enough?”

Maybe this was what Mar had been trying to help her understand all along.

Amidst the chaos, and amidst the pain, Kara finds herself growing strangely calm. “Lena,” she says. “I think it’s time you knew something.”

Lena rounds back on her, her face dark and wounded. “So what?”

“Please, just let me-”

Lena cuts her off with a shrug, wrapping her arms tight around her stomach. “I don’t want to hear it. There isn’t anything left to say.”

Something strong propels Kara forwards, gives her the guts to reach out and wrap her hand around one of Lena’s wrists. And while it’s not like that’s the first time they’ve touched since Kara returned, there’s something _different_ , here. That same strong something passes between the two of them like an electrical current, and Kara nearly jerks and drops Lena’s hand because of it. As for Lena, she must feel it too; she stares down at their joined hands and Kara watches the tendons jump and dance as Lena flexes her wrist. But she doesn’t pull away— not yet at least— so Kara keeps holding on.

“Yes there is.” They’re so close now that Kara can whisper, and not even the roar of the ocean can disrupt this moment. “Please. You need to know.”

Lena narrows her eyes, and tightens her jaw, but she doesn’t pull away. 

“You know, I had to make my peace with a lot of things before I died. Afterwards, too. But I never could come to terms with what happened to us.” Kara squeezes Lena’s wrist as gently as she can, and takes a moment to take a breath. She hadn’t thought it would feel this way. Then again, with Lena, Kara never knew what she would feel. “And by now, you’ve heard it all. I know that. I know you’re sick of the sob story, and the excuses, all of it. For the record, I don’t blame you for any of it. I betrayed your trust, and I’m sorry for that.”

Lena says nothing. She raises an eyebrow instead, a silent invitation for Kara to keep talking, so she does, feeling the intensity behind it show as her words begin to tumble over themselves.

“All my life, Lena, I never knew what I wanted. I knew what my parents wanted from me, and Kal-El, and Eliza and Jeremiah, and my friends. What they expected me to do. How I was to act, and behave, and blend in. What the world demanded of me. For most of my time here on Earth, I was just someone to carry my family’s legacy and the weight of the world.” Their eyes lock. “Just like you.”

Lena actually looks hesitant. “That isn’t the same. We aren’t the same,” she says, but it isn’t cruel, more shocked. Like she can’t believe that Kara would ever consider their burdens on par with each other.

“I think we are,” Kara replies gently. “I think that’s what drew me to you in the first place.”

“Kara-” Lena says, and she sounds exhausted by it all, sounds truly like she can’t handle much more of this. Kara knows that, and she hates it, but she won’t be able to live with herself if she loses Lena forever without her at least knowing this.

“Nobody thought I should be your friend.” Lena scoffs, digs her feet in the sand, and she probably already knows that, had probably figured it out the first few times they ever spent time together. “And to be honest, for the longest time I didn’t know why I didn’t listen to them. I realize now that meeting you, being your best friend, it was the first time that I’d done something completely for myself. Not for Krypton, or Kal-El, or the Danvers. Not out of some vague sense of duty. It was just for me.” Kara takes a deep breath, about to take the plunge. “All because of you. And I’m sorry that it took me so long despite that, but I know what I want, now. Even if it took me dying to realize it.”

“And what do you want, Kara?” Lena asks, bitter in a way that Kara knows comes from heartache.

“I’m in love with you,” Kara says. “I have been, all this time. And for the longest time I didn’t tell you, because I didn’t want it to end badly. I couldn’t handle it hurting so much anymore.”

“What did you just say?” Lena asks but Kara knows she had heard what she said because her eyes have gone wide, stunned for a different reason than just seeing Kara again.

Kara just barrels forwards.“But when I loved you, it wasn’t just me who got hurt. You did too. And I don’t blame you for running, or for ignoring me, or for any of it. Fighting the Anti-Monitor… you’re right. I thought that it would be better to lose my life— to lose you, to lose everything, than to let you get hurt again.”

“You just think you’re so good at handling pain, don’t you?” Lena says, spits it out, even if she’s lost most of her venom. If anything, Lena sounds scared— sounds like she doesn’t have a clue where this is headed, and isn’t entirely sure if she wants to reach the final destination at all. “You say it’s so no one else has to. So I don’t have to.” Lena sticks up her chin, but that doesn’t stop it from trembling. What Kara has said to her has stuck her somewhere deep, and somewhere vulnerable. “I think deep down, you just like to seek it out.”

For what it’s worth, Kara doesn’t ignore the criticism behind Lena’s anger. It’s the same thing that Alex has been telling her all along, the same thing that Kara’s slowly been realizing herself; she’s always been drawn to blood, has always thought it held some sort of devotion— has known that ever since her parents gave her their hearts in the form of fire and ash and death— and maybe, she can’t resist spilling her own.

“Maybe you’re right,” she says with a shrug, never taking her eyes off of Lena. “Maybe I was so concerned with never hurting you again that I ended up losing you in the long run. But now I know that losing you is worse— I took that to my grave, and I won’t screw that up again. This time, there will be no secrets, no lies, nothing.”

“Kara, I-” Lena takes in a gulp of air, pacing away for just a moment before returning with a wild, desperate fire in her eyes. “I don’t know the first thing about love! And you just stand here, asking me to… what? Be brave? To face whatever _this_ is between us?”

“I don’t know.” Lena turns away again, not to ignore Kara’s calm words but to spare herself from the rawness of them. “Lena, I don’t know what I’m asking for. I guess I want whatever you’ll give me. I want a chance.”

“A chance?” Lena echoes, sounding carved out inside. She looks caught between walking away and colliding forwards, and the ocean wind does nothing to temper the chaos on her face. “A chance for what? More heartbreak?” Her voice breaks, and her face contorts into something awful. “For me to find you dead in the rubble again?”

Kara takes a breath, then allows herself to hope. “The chance for something new. Something better. Something good, for once.” Then, she meets Lena’s eyes, tries to put all of the feeling behind what she’s just said into a look. They’d always been better at sharing moments like these, anyway. “So now I’m asking you what you want, Lena. Because if you want even a sliver of what I do, if you feel like I do right now, then I think— I _hope_ — that there’s something here worth fighting for.”

For a moment, she thinks she really has changed Lena. For a moment, she thinks that that might have actually broken through. Kara's heart swells, and she watches with bated breath as Lena teeters, staring unblinking into her eyes and swallowing hard.

But then Lena shakes her head and drops Kara’s hand.

“I- I can’t do this,” she says, and Kara’s eyes close of their own accord, like they don’t want to watch Lena walk away forever. “I don’t know if I can do this.”

“Lena, please-” Kara tries, but it’s too late. She can see the panic in Lena’s eyes, can tell that Lena would rather be anywhere else in the world than here, and knows that she can’t stop it from happening.

“No, Kara, I- I can’t. I need to go,” Lena says, sending her one last wild look over her shoulder before practically running away, fleeing the scene of the crime. 

Kara stays where she is, alone in the surf, watching Lena’s form steadily retreat until it’s just her silhouette, climbing into her car and pulling quickly out of Eliza’s driveway. She watches her drive fast down the coastline road, watches Lena drive far away, watches her leave maybe for good this time, and still she does nothing.

She tries to take solace in the fact that at least she told the truth. At least Lena knows it all now. There’s no more lies between them, no more pretense or false convictions or masks put up hastily to hide the truth. Kara’s walls are all down now, and maybe she should find some peace in that but her heart still breaks anyway. The ocean still floods her moats and surges through her crumbling defenses and Kara still drowns in the cold, dark deep. She imagines that it would be Lena’s eyes that she sees from above.

Where’s the solace to be found in a new life without Lena?

She stands frozen out there for the longest time, longer than she can remember, until she hears cautious footsteps join her. For the briefest of moments, Kara thinks it’s Lena; but if she listens closely she can hear Lena’s heart beat sharp and erratic somewhere past the last highway connecting Midvale to the rest of the world, and Kara knows she’s well and truly gone.

As she turns to face Alex, Kara can already feel the tears start to fall.

“Hey, how did-” Alex starts, but stops as soon as she sees Kara’s face. Kara screws her eyes shut before she can see the pity on Alex’s. “Oh, no. Kara, I’m so sorry.”

Kara all but throws herself at her sister, lets her wrap her arms around her and lets herself cry without feeling selfish for it. Maybe this is what Mar meant, when he told Kara what she’s worthy of. Maybe it’s not just love, or forgiveness, or peace. Maybe Kara deserves to feel the bad along with the good— to be hurt every once in a while without feeling like she’s a burden.

After all, isn’t this kind of pain what it means to be human?

“It’s okay,” she says, even as she burrows deeper into Alex’s shoulder to cry. “At least she knows. It’ll get better.”

Kara says it more for herself than for anyone else, because she needs something to hold onto. A mantra like that is better than nothing, and Kara almost believes it. She wants to believe things will be better someday. They will. _Right?_

“You’ll always have me,” her sister says, and Kara knows that is true. Alex isn’t going anywhere, and her sister is all she’s ever needed anyways. They’ll go back to the city, and Kara will get to see her friends again, will get to help people again, and that’ll be enough. Kara will be enough.

She has a new shot at life now, and this time, she’s determined to make it her own.

(She really wanted Lena to be a part of that, though. She’d been hoping that Lena would be what she’s always been reaching for. All she really wanted was Lena.)

Oh well. Kara releases a shaking sigh and closes her eyes. She’s never really had it all. She’ll just have to learn to live without Lena again. She’s done it before— has spent most of her life without the other woman by her side— so she’ll do it again. It won’t be that hard.

_Right?_

… 

Just before they leave back to National City, Clark and Lois come to visit.

Kara likes to think that she’s experienced more than the average person in the universe— what with the time travel and the alternate dimensions and the multiple earths thrown in for good measure— but nothing prepares her for when Alex starts the process of calling their friends. 

They sit together on the porch, just the two of them, the morning after Lena left. Kara had given herself the rest of that day to deal with her heartbreak— which in her case, meant ice cream and sitcom reruns and even forcing Alex to go through their old high school yearbooks. It’s a relic of an older version of themselves, ancient history by now, but that’s exactly why Kara looks through them. The pictures are faded and the fashion is outrageous and Alex nearly breaks a finger in her haste to snap the book shut when they reach her braces stage, but it’s a time in Kara’s life that’s far removed from National City and from Lena. 

Not that Kara wants to escape. No, she actually quite likes wallowing, especially now that her feelings aren’t the open secret they were previously. Alex is extra-nice and patient, Kara gets to wear her pajamas for the rest of the day, and Eliza makes hot cocoa. As has been the case for this entire stay in Midvale, Kara actually manages to find comfort amidst her misery.

But this warm bubble they’ve created can’t last forever, which is why the next morning, Kara wraps herself in a blanket and listens as Alex carefully, dutifully delivers world-shattering news to all of their closest family and friends. 

At least this time the news isn’t quite so sad.

Most of their friends agree to stay put in National City and wait until the two of them get back before they see Kara again— though in the case of J’onn and poor, sweet Nia especially, Kara has to grab the phone to talk them down herself. Alex does wonderfully, gives news that would be impossible to believe even if Kara flew down in front of her friends and explained it herself— but there’s only so much that she can do, only so much chaos she can avoid.

Which is exactly why they find Clark and Lois touching down in the backyard barely a half-hour after they give them a call.

Kara watches her cousin land with an uneven thud on the ground, red cape billowing and their coat of arms glinting in the sun. It’s eerily similar to the first time he ever brought her here, a careful, strong hand on her shoulder and well-meaning but stilted Kryptonian falling loosely from his lips. Kara had been so scared, so lost, so devastated, but that suit had calmed her down. That was still the House of El displayed proudly, even if it was across the broad chest of a man and not the baby that Kara had expected to find.

Coming here, meeting the Danvers, it had been a rebirth of its own. Really, Kara supposes that this time around really isn’t any different.

She stands and goes to meet them out in the yard, wishing that she had her own suit to wear. It wasn’t that she didn’t like her old jeans and borrowed flannel from Alex— not at all. It’s just that that suit had always been a source of comfort to Kara, and a source of pride. Kara doesn’t know where it is. She hadn’t been buried in it, she knows that much— and she’s been too nervous to ask Alex about it. The fight with the Anti-Monitor hadn’t been a clean or dignified one, and Kara knows in her heart that the cape and the suit are probably long gone.

(She hopes Alex somehow managed to salvage the cape. It had always connected her to Kal-El, and it’s one of the few tangible mementos of Krypton that either of them had left.)

Kal meets her on the hill in the blink of an eye, pulling her into a strong hug that takes Kara by surprise. Although her powers are still slowly making their way back to her, what makes the ferocity of this embrace surprising isn’t the way that her cousin holds her tight, but because they haven’t hugged like this in years— maybe ever.

Kara just pats her cousin on the back until he’s ready to say something. They’ve always loved each other, Kara knows that— but that didn’t mean there weren't some bad things between them. Nothing can be perfectly pretty, Kara’s learned, and her relationship with her baby cousin is no exception to that rule. There was lingering resentment between them, spoiled pride and shared grief that had only served to keep them apart. 

Funnily enough, Kara’s always wished that Kal would stop being Superman every once and a while and just be her cousin. She’s got a feeling that the man in front of her is exactly that, despite the red boots.

“Kara,” he says, as sad as she’s ever heard him; it isn’t until she feels wetness against the fabric of her shirt that Kara realizes that Kal is crying. “Kara, I’m so sorry.”

Kara squeezes back as tightly as her powers allow her to, bowing her head. She’d guessed that Kal would feel guilty about her death, and would feel ashamed that he wasn’t there. It’s exactly how she would have felt if she’d been the one left behind. While she’d been sent to Earth to protect him, in the end, they looked after each other. Truly being the last Kryptonian on Earth… Kara can only imagine how lonely that would be.

“It’s alright,” she murmurs, shushing him gently. “It’s alright, Kal.”

“No, I- I should have been there to help. If I’d been there, I could’ve helped you, or I- I _should have_ been there to watch Lex.” His eyes are icy and angry but at no one but himself— and Lex, Kara supposes. There won’t ever be a time where Clark Kent and Lex Luthor don’t hate each other with a burning intensity. It makes Kara a little sick to her stomach. “I… I made him into what he is,” he says. “It’s all my fault, and you suffered for it.”

Kara pulls away and puts her hands on her cousin’s shoulders, raising an eyebrow. “He wasn’t exactly the biggest fan of me either,” she points out gently. “I know you have a history with him, but Kal… don’t blame yourself for what Lex Luthor does. This time around, I think it truly was about what I’d done to him.”

“But Kara-”

“Let’s not talk about him, okay?” she requests, and after a moment, Kal-El nods, his throat bobbing. “I’m here now, and I’ve learned the hard way not to let the past consume your present.”

Kal fiddles with the ring on his hand, staring down at the grass. For such a tall, strong, imposing man, he sure is good at being small when he wants to be. He wants to ask her something, Kara knows, but he can’t seem to say it.

She squeezes his shoulder and gives him a cautious smile. “I’m here now. It really is okay,” Kara says, and that’s all it takes to coax him out of his shell.

“What was it like?” he asks. “Dying?”

Kara lets out a long breath through her nose. “It isn’t so bad,” she answers after a while. “Less of an ending, and more of a… slipping away.” She meets his gaze, and suddenly, there’s so much she wants to tell him. “I heard these voices, Kal. I heard our _family_. Krypton… it isn’t gone. It’s just waiting for us someplace else. Somewhere beyond.”

For a second, when she sees his eyes go wide and his jaw clench, Kara thinks he doesn’t believe her. But then he says, “I heard them too. My parents,” and Kara’s heart skips a beat.

“You did?” she asks breathlessly, and he nods with enthusiasm.

“When the world disappeared,” he says. “But just as soon as I heard them, we were back, like nothing had happened at all. I asked Lois about it and she says she doesn’t remember anything at all. I doubt anyone else does either.”

Kara bites her lip, not sure what to make of that. At the time, she hadn’t been worried about what would happen if she brought her world back— only that she would in the first place. Now that she knows that there are consequences, that there are wrinkles and complications that they haven’t even found yet, Kara is glad Kal was there to see things through.

“Even for me, it feels like a… dream, now,” he continues. “Like when you wake up and the details are already distant and foggy.” Kal levels his gaze on her now, and there’s something intense behind it, something that makes Kara want to look away. But she doesn’t, and he keeps talking. “Still, even if I don’t remember, I know how much courage that must have taken for you to do what you did.”

Kara breaks their stare to glance down at the ground, feeling a swell of emotion threaten to overtake her. Out of anyone, she knows that Kal understands how she must have felt in that moment. For the first time Kara lets herself remember how scared she’d been. How much she didn’t want to leave them.

“I just did what needed to be done,” she says, and even if there’s steel in her words, her voice itself still wavers. Kal doesn’t judge; he just leans down and plants a kiss on her forehead.

“You did more than that, Kara. I didn’t have a warning,” he says carefully. “I didn’t know that the world was ending, and I didn’t know that I was about to die. But you… you knew what would happen, didn’t you?” Kara nods, and he gives her a sad smile. “You willingly took that leap for the sake of everyone else. I don’t know if I could have.”

“Yes you would,” Kara answers. “If it had been for the people you loved, trust me. It was an easy choice.”

“Our parents would be proud,” Kal-El says in the quiet. “It’s what they wanted for us.”

Kara turns and sees Alex and Lois walking up the hill slowly, Lois with a bundle in her arms. With a start, Kara realizes that it’s a baby; this is little Jonathan, living proof that Krypton doesn’t have to die with the two of them— that their hopes and dreams for a family are more than possible. Alex and Lois are laughing, teasing, and Alex’s finger is being held by one of Jonathan’s hands. There is something about seeing a baby, witnessing a new chapter of life that will grow in front of your eyes, that puts things into perspective.

Kara used to believe in what Kal’s just told her. But now, she isn’t so sure. Now, she thinks she’s learning to believe in something different.

“No,” she tells Clark, a smile growing on her face as she sees a familiar curl of dark hair beneath the blanket. “Our parents wanted more for us than that. They wanted us to live. They wanted us to have a chance to find something like _this_ again. They’re proud of the both of us, Kal, and they always will be.”

He looks over at her in surprise, but something soft and sincere pulls at the corners of his mouth as well. “I think you’re right,” Kal says.

As soon as she gets within distance, Lois is already giving Kara her most blinding smile and wiggling her eyebrows. She drops off Jonathan into a bemused Clark’s arms, and then practically jumps on top of Kara, squealing in delight.

“I knew you’d find a way back, kid,” she crows, but despite her bravado, Kara can see the way her eyes crinkle and shine, recognizes the tears there for what they are. Lois may like to put on a show, but at heart, she’s just happy to see Kara again, and Kara feels the same. “You’ve got a knack for getting in and out of trouble. Learned it from the best,” she says, pointing a finger at her own chest with pride.

Kara huffs out a laugh and wraps her arms around Lois in return, blushing. “Hi, Lois. It’s good to see you.”

Without a baby in her arms to actively divert her attention away, Lois is just as sharp as ever, and when she steps away from the hug and punches Kara’s shoulder with a smirk, Kara knows that Lois isn’t done just yet with the teasing.

“So… I hear the cat’s out of the bag,” she remarks snidely, and at Kara’s confused glance at Alex, Lois rolls her eyes. “About you and Luthor, I mean,” she clarifies, and if Kara was blushing before, she’s positively scarlet now. “I’ll be the first to nab an exclusive when you two makes things official, won’t I?”

Despite the overwhelming feelings of joy and warmth at seeing two of her favorite people again, Kara can’t stop her heart from sinking just a bit.

“I’m sorry, but you’ll have to scrap that interview,” she informs Lois morosely. “Lena… she doesn’t feel the same way.”

Lois just stares, not even attempting to look anything other than unimpressed. Even Clark, as oblivious and happy-go-lucky as he is, shoots Kara a look out of the corner of his eye. Whatever she said apparently isn’t winning them over.

After a beat of awkward silence, Lois claps her on the shoulder again. “I wouldn’t look so bummed about it if I were you,” she says, and it actually sounds encouraging. “I’ve got a good feeling about you two— and, 150 bucks on the line. We’ve got a betting pool going.”

There’s the fond exasperation Kara usually feels around Lois Lane.

Flabbergasted, she exchanges a questioning look with Alex, who just shrugs, ears red, and stares up at the sky, looking suspiciously complicit. Clark, on the other hand, nearly drops Jonathan in his haste to shake his head and send Kara every nonverbal signal possible that he’s innocent.

“I- I had _nothing_ to do with this, Kara, I promise,” he stammers, rocking Jonathan nervously. “I mean, I- I would never bet on my own cousin’s love life-”

“Sorry to break it to you babe, but it’s your name on the check,” Lois counters, squeezing his forearms while Clark’s mouth drops open and he gapes over at Kara, still profusely objecting. “You’re in just as deep as me.”

Maybe it’s because it’s been a long, crazy day, or maybe Kara hasn’t gotten enough sleep— or maybe she’s just missed these two so much that she’s bursting at the seams with affection now— but Kara just laughs it off. Everyone else joins in too, even Clark, and when they quiet down, Kara turns her attention towards the baby.

She asks Clark an unspoken question with a tilt of her head, and Clark understands easily.

“Here,” he says, transferring Jonathan over to her, nestling him carefully in her arms. For two of the strongest people on the planet, the two of them are exceedingly gentle. “It’s time for you to meet your nephew.”

Kara looks down in surprise as Jonathan shifts closer, as he opens his eyes blearily and yawns. His eyes are blue, just like Kal’s just like hers— just like the rest of their family.

“Hello, little one,” she says with a smile, adjusting the blanket over the child. Kara’s forgotten how small a child can be, so fragile. She holds him against her chest with all the care in the universe. Once upon a time, and fate worked out a little differently, this is how she would have spent her life on Earth, raising Kal, protecting Krypton’s legacy. Her grin softens, and she glances up at Clark, who’s leaning against Lois. They look happy. Her cousin really has grown up. “He looks just like you,” she tells him, and if he sees the tears in her eyes as she says it, Kal doesn’t think any less of her for it.

“I’m glad you get to be there for him.”

A few tears fall from Kara’s eyes, but no one says anything. Everyone here recognizes that to Kara, this moment is special. Her nephew, this small, wonderful baby in her arms, has given her a type of peace she’d been worried she wouldn’t ever find. 

Krypton is going to live on no matter what. Maybe that means that Kara won’t have to live life wondering if everything is in vain. Maybe this time around, she can just live.

“I am too.”

… 

Kara moves back to National City the next morning, Alex in tow. 

Their plan, for now, is to keep things quiet; they sneak back into Kara’s apartment— that Alex had still stubbornly, heartbreakingly been paying rent on— and pull the sheets off of the furniture, unpack some of the boxes. They agree to order takeout and call J’onn the next morning, once they both catch their breath.

Kara wants to see everyone, she really does— but seeing the thick layer of dust in her apartment and the cold, abandoned feeling to a place that was once warm and full of sun is jarring enough. She and Alex decide that for now, throwing Kara right into the thick of things isn’t the best route to take— even if that thick involves a veritable mob of concerned, excited, well-meaning friends and family.

That’s the plan, and Kara is content to stick to it— which is why she’s so confused when, maybe an hour or so after she and Alex get back to her apartment, Alex does something different.

Right around lunchtime, her phone buzzes from where it had been turned over on the coffee table, and Alex clambers up to her feet and walks over to get it. Kara assumes that it’s J’onn, or Eliza, or even Clark checking in, making sure they got home alright. But when Alex reads whatever is on her screen she gets the _strangest_ look on her face, glancing back and forth between her phone and her sister, and that perks Kara’s interest.

“What-?”

“I’m going to go check in with Kelly,” Alex announces abruptly, throwing on her jacket and lacing up her boots at an inhuman speed Kara isn’t even sure if she could achieve. “I should be back later tonight.” She practically rips the door from its hinges and jogs out, but just before it closes shut again, Alex pokes her head in. “I love you, Kara,” she says, still with that same odd expression. “Call or text me if you need anything, and I mean _anything._ ”

Then, her sister is down the hallway and down the stairs before it feels like Kara can even finish whipping her head around to ask her what’s wrong. And even though they’ve had an admittedly crazy week, even if the both of them have been acting irrationally for most of it, Kara isn’t so clueless as to not notice that this is bizarre. 

Something— or someone— had sent Alex flying out of the apartment in a hurry, despite the fact that Alex really hasn’t left her side since they reunited, and that’s the part that’s confusing. Kara honestly isn’t sure who has that kind of power over her sister, but she has a feeling in her suddenly rolling gut that she’s going to be finding out sooner rather than later.

Huh.

When Kara gets a knock on her door not even ten minutes later, somehow, she knows exactly who it is. 

She opens the door, heart pounding, and sure enough, there is Lena, who, after taking a moment to stare with wide eyes at the bizarre sight of Kara Danvers back in her old apartment, narrows them, looking by all accounts to be a woman on a mission.

Lena marches into Kara’s apartment without even one look over her shoulder, throwing her purse on the armchair and turning back around. It’s an abrupt departure from the first time she ever knocked on the door and walked in with a timid smile, and Kara is blown away by how such a simple thing can make such a difference. Lena walks in with their shared history and years of baggage in tow, but all Kara can think about is how much she’d missed Lena standing here in her kitchen. It reminds her of home more than her sun-faded furniture does.

Kara considers waving, thinks about squeaking out some bland, vague greeting, _really_ weighs the pros and cons of leaping out her window and hoping that the adrenaline will send her powers rushing back, but before she can act on any of those Lena takes charge. She clears her throat, flips her hair over one shoulder, and turns back around to face Kara, seeming to be measured and collected. This is the Lena Luthor that Kara always imagined ruled effortlessly over a board meeting, and here she is in front of her now.

But then she starts talking, and Kara realizes that the poise in Lena’s eyes is really only scratching the surface. 

“Kara,” she says, speaking in a clipped, rehearsed tone. Kara wonders how many times Lena has practiced this imminent speech she has prepared. “I reacted… poorly, to your return, and I apologize for that. I’m here now because I feel prepared to try this again, and because there are some things I need to say to you.”

“Okay,” Kara replies, because there isn’t much else to say. She knows better than most when to get out of Lena Luthor’s way when she’s in pursuit of something. Whatever it is that Lena’s after, Kara’s involved, and although just seeing Lena again makes Kara feel a little bit like crying, she swallows it down and sits on the couch, ready to take what Lena has to offer. “Alright. What’s wrong?”

Lena stays where she is, pacing by the coffee table, and when she finally speaks, Kara is taken aback by the ferocity of her words.

“How dare you tell me you’re in love with me,” Lena seethes, accusatory. Kara cringes and wishes Lena hadn’t gone straight for her jugular, but doesn’t react other than that. Lena’s voice gets louder, bursting at the seams with emotion, and Kara can understand why she spent so much time preparing for this— because this is something Lena can barely control as is, and Kara knows how much Lena hates feeling uncomposed. “How could you do that to me?”

“Lena, I-”

“And how dare you show up out of the blue and tell me that while I was in the middle of yelling at you! I was incredibly angry with you, and I still am,” Lena says, yelling once more. Kara knows better than to interrupt it this time. “You… you threw your life away before we could fix any of _this_ —” Lena gestures wildly between the two of them— “between us! What, did you think that would be your get out of jail free card?”

“Well, no, of course not,” Kara retorts, but when Lena raises an eyebrow she finds she doesn’t have anything more to support her argument. While her intentions were good, telling Lena how she felt like that, in the heat of an already charged moment had been reckless. There were better ways of going about it, but Kara couldn’t wait any longer. “I just needed you to know.”

“How long?” Lena asks, practically demands, and all Kara can do is blink rapidly.

“Um… sorry?”

“For how long have you been in love with me?” Lena asks again, her hands on her hips, but there’s something tumultuous around the edges of her voice. It’s shaky, and clearly fragile, and all it does is make her question seem that much more urgent. Kara actually understands that this is an answer that Lena needs to hear.

It’s too bad, then, that she really has no idea.

“Well, I mean…” Kara stops hoping a good answer will appear out of the blue and just bites her lip instead, shooting Lena an apologetic wince. “I feel like _maybe_ you won’t like this, but… I don’t really know?”

“What do you mean?” Lena puts her hands on her hips. There’s momentum behind her stance, behind the set to her shoulders. Lena looks like she’s trying hard to keep herself from falling forwards. “How can you not know?”

“I really only figured it out after we- after, you know… it was a recent thing.” Kara knows that it’s weak, but it’s all she’s got at the moment. How can she even begin to put to words her feelings for Lena when she is still coming to terms with them herself? “But,” she says, stronger now, “What I realized was that the feelings that I’d always had around you, the ones I could never name… was love.”

“Did you plan on ever telling me?” Lena asks, and Kara wants to open her mouth, wants to point out that they’re only having this conversation _because_ Kara told her, but she understands the real question Lena’s asking.

“You mean before I died?” Kara’s voice is gentle, but it still sends a shockwave through the both of them. Lena reels back slightly, her momentum stalled, and for the first time since marching in here, Lena looks doubtful. Unsure of herself. She nods her head. 

There’s nothing left but for Kara to be honest. “Eventually, I think I would have,” she says with a shrug, and Lena’s eyes, still sharp, lose some of their hardness. “What happened between us tore me up inside. And once I figured it out… well, I’ve learned that love isn’t something to hide from. Even if it hurts.”

Lena lets out a sigh, and after a long moment of silence, wraps her arms carefully around herself. Whatever power that has been spurring her on this whole time seems to have overtaken her. The scales have been tipped, and Kara knows from the raw look in Lena’s eyes that something has shifted. She’s been sent hurtling towards something, but Kara doesn’t know what.

“I grew up thinking that love like that was a burden,” Lena says at last, unexpectedly brittle, but Kara decides to stay quiet and let her have the moment— to trust that this isn’t Lena working her way towards a permanent goodbye. “And then I met you— and it wasn’t like that at all. If what you’re saying is true, if you’ve really always loved me, then you carried it beautifully. You’ve always been like that, wearing your heart on your sleeve. And so, when I found myself caring for you in ways that I’d never-” She stops herself, taking a breath through her nose, and leaves Kara wondering where she had been heading. 

“I learned from you to treat whatever we had like a gift. And so I was content to just be your friend, and never expect anything more, even if there was a part of me that always felt like you were keeping something hidden away from me. Even if that thought terrified me, I left it alone. I thought it was the selfless thing to do. It’s what you would have done.”

“I’m not as selfless as you think,” Kara says. “I can be as greedy as anyone else on this planet.”

“You frame selfishness like it’s a flaw, Kara. You act like you’d rather die than-” Lena stops, and laughs humorlessly. “Well, I suppose you did, didn’t you? Why can’t you _ever_ put yourself first? Do you have any idea how agonizing it is to care about someone who loves you more than they love themselves?”

“You’re the exact same way,” Kara fights back, feeling the need to defend herself. Sure, she understands now the hurt that her sacrifice had caused, knows now the value in choosing herself over others, but that doesn’t make what she did _completely_ meaningless. It had saved Lena’s life, hadn’t it? 

Lena scoffs, but perks up, like she’s actually glad Kara isn’t backing down and taking her blows like a punching bag. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe I always cared about you more than myself. But I did it because _I_ couldn’t bear to lose you. It was for my own selfish need to keep you in my life. You… you do it for the sake of the world. You do it because you feel like atoning for the people you couldn’t save.”

Kara’s face darkens, and Lena’s softens. For a fleeting moment, this is exactly what Kara had always hoped for after Lena found out her secret. She’d always thought that Lena would understand her more than most, and she knows she’s right, except now Lena is throwing it back in her face. 

“It makes more sense now, Kara, why you always seemed so lonely. I always felt like it was my fault for not being there for you fully, but I can’t fill that gap that Krypton left. And I’m sorry, I really am. I wish I could have been. But Kara, the part that I still don’t understand is this. You’re the last of a dead world. Why can’t you, of all people, be selfish every once in a while? Why can’t you choose self-preservation when you know how easy it is to lose everything?”

“I don’t know,” Kara evades weakly, feeling the walls caving in all around her.

“Why can’t you ever get your way?”

“Lena, please-”

“Why don’t you ever get to decide what it is that _you_ want?”

“Because the last time I let myself be selfish, I hurt you!” Kara yells, and Lena stops talking, just lets out a gasp and stares. Kara takes in a long, shuddering breath, and meets her eyes no matter how badly she wants to look away. “You were what I wanted. You were… _everything_ , and I lost you anyway. Just like I’d lost everything else.”

“Kara, you didn’t-”

“I would rather die than lose you. I would rather give my life over and over again than have to live in a world without you.” Kara’s mouth sets in a firm line, and her jaw locks in place. She bites her tongue hard to keep herself from crying. Crying seems to be all that she does, anymore, but Lena needs to hear this. “Isn’t that pretty selfish?”

Lena opens her mouth to say something but Kara barrels forwards, too much force behind these words for her to stop them now. It feels like she’s been waiting her whole life to say them— to admit to _somebody_ that she isn’t so perfect, isn’t so selfless, isn’t as noble as she’s supposed to be. She’s made so many mistakes, and has so many regrets— and her biggest one is standing in front of her now, looking a little out of her depths.

“And I know it was my fault,” Kara says, and she wants to clutch at her stomach to stop it from churning so intensely but she just balls up her fists instead, letting her guilt propel her forwards. “I know that. I know that Lena, and I am so, _so_ sorry that you got caught up in it. I’m sorry I hurt you, and I’m sorry for ruining what we had. I just wanted you to know the truth. I wanted you to know what you meant to me.”

Lena regards her silently, looking mystified. “You… you think I’m angry _because_ you told me you’re in love with me?” she asks, like she’s just making sure she has her facts straight.

Kara grimaces and looks down at the floor, wishing Lena hadn’t found such a blunt way of putting it. Still, she’s right, and Kara nods, eyes firmly on the floorboards.

“I’m sorry,” she says.

Lena starts laughing then.

It isn’t cold, or humorless, or cutting; it sounds genuinely amused, and the sound alone causes Kara to look up, more than a little confused. There she sees Lena laughing a true, warm laugh that Kara hasn’t heard in a long time, one hand up to cover the grin dawning on her face, the other around her stomach. When Lena finally meets her gaze, Kara is shocked to see nothing but bemusement— no anger or sadness or anything remotely negative in her eyes. By the way she coughs and clears her throat to get it under control, Lena seems surprised by her outburst as well.

“Kara,” she says, and Kara can practically feel the warmth coming from her voice, so much so that she feels goosebumps break out down her spine. She stays rooted to the spot, eyes wide and trying not to look at Lena like she’s grown a second head. Lena… Lena actually takes a step towards her, actually reaches out and wraps a shaking hand around her forearm, keeping her in place— not that Kara would move even if she wanted to now. “You can be a little bit of an idiot sometimes, you know that?”

“I’m… sorry?” Kara repeats, because Lena is looking at her like she used to and laughing at her like she used to and Kara can’t help but feel like they’re teetering on some massive precipice now, _almost_ back to the point of being themselves again— and what good are words anyway when Lena is giving her the tiniest of smiles again?

Lena squeezes her arm, and Kara swallows hard. “We’ve both said that word too much lately,” she says, meaning it. “I know you’re sorry, Kara. I am too. Just for now, can we stop?”

“Sorry- I mean, alright. Of course,” Kara answers, because at this point she’ll do anything Lena asks just to feel like she’s keeping up with where Lena is leading them. When Lena gives her a grateful smile but doesn’t say anything, Kara furrows her brow. “Um, okay. So… I’m not… really following what’s happening right now? You aren’t upset about what happened?”

Lena hesitates, lets out a sigh before moving her hand away from Kara’s arm and turning away. Kara tries to ignore how immediately her body wants Lena to touch her again, how badly she needs someone to ground her, and watches the other woman carefully. Lena really doesn’t seem mad. She’s more… conflicted. Unsure. Maybe even a little scared.

“I… no, Kara,” she says, then backtracks, looking like she’s more at odds with herself than with Kara. “That’s not true. I _am_ upset, but… I don’t know.” She stops, looking over at Kara with a hint of the heat from the beach, and Kara does her best not to back down from it. “I’m angry, but not because of what you said.”

“Okay,” Kara says, trying not to sound overly relieved, not when Lena is still so pained. She leans against her counter, digs her fingers into the marble top behind her, and tries her best to be open. She takes a breath, reminding herself that this is on Lena’s terms, not hers. “Do you wanna talk about it?” she asks, praying to Rao that she said the right thing. 

“ _What?_ ” Lena asks, disbelieving, and maybe that wasn’t the right thing to say but Kara’s stuck with it now so she digs her heels in and presses forward.

“I’m always gonna be here for you, Lena. For anything.” Kara does her best to sound more earnest and genuine than nervous but it’s hard when Lena is holding her gaze like so. It’s… terrifying, being around Lena again, now that everything's out in the open and Kara has absolutely nowhere to hide. “I know I may be the last person you want to talk to about this, but you still can. No pressure,” she adds weakly at the end, giving Lena a half smile that probably does nothing to mask her general skittishness.

“You’re… here for me?” The other woman frowns, then smiles for half a second before shaking her head, still looking at Kara like she’s stuck between slapping her and… well, Kara isn’t sure what to make of the undecipherable emotion hidden behind Lena’s tense jaw, but she knows she prefers it to the hurt from earlier.

“Uhh… y-yes?” Kara asks, clearly fishing. She doesn’t know what to make of Lena right now, so she reverts back to stammering to try and bridge the tense silence in the room. “Yeah. I am.”

Lena decides on something, swallows hard and narrows her eyes, and she marches over to Kara with a jittery intensity. “You make me so _confused_ ,” she announces, punctuating her point by poking Kara’s chest. “You always have. From the first moment I met you, you just… you have a way of turning things upside down.”

Kara gapes down at her and almost apologizes again just to have some kind of response, but instead she stays blessedly silent, because this doesn’t seem like the right time to trip over her words, not without ruining whatever realization Lena is coming to.

“And after years of being around you, after finding out you were hiding an entire side of yourself from me, after seeing you die and then show up one day good as new, you’d think I’d be used to it,” Lena says, removing her hand but keeping herself defiantly in Kara’s space. “You’d think I’d be used to the way you just… change everything, so effortlessly.”

Lena finally looks away. She fiddles with her hands and bites her lip and Kara knows then, in that fleeting moment of vulnerability, that Lena is just as nervous as she is. It’s oddly calming knowing that the two of them are both struggling to stay afloat, both way out of their comfort zones and both just _trying_ to make things right, to make sense of things. And maybe she shouldn’t— maybe she’s reading too much into this, or relying too heavily on years of getting to know Lena through the small details— but Kara can’t help but take comfort in the fact that Lena is being vulnerable around her in the first place.

It may be stupid, or insignificant, but Kara knows that Lena only chews on her lip when she’s anxious, when she’s feeling exposed. Kara hadn’t thought Lena would ever allow herself to be this vulnerable around Kara ever again.

So while it may not be progress, and it may not be healing, Kara still decides on it being a glimmer of hope. A light at the end of the tunnel, telling her that maybe, just maybe, she hasn’t screwed this up completely. 

Lena’s next words bring Kara screeching back to reality, back to the enigmatic, captivating, possibly very pissed off woman in front of her.

“But then, on that beach, you told me you were in love with me,” Lena says, letting out a tiny little breath like just remembering that moment has punched the air out of her. Kara feels her stomach flip and she understands exactly how it feels. “The way you said it… it was like you’d crawled out of your own grave just so I’d know. And I knew then that I’ll never be used to it the way you change my life. How can I when you say something like that, Kara?”

“I didn’t- I didn’t want it to be a burden,” Kara finds herself saying, mostly because she can’t shake the breathless way Lena just said her name and if she stays silent much longer and just listens to Lena’s aching voice her knees might just give out. “I was just trying to tell you the truth for once.”

“I know that, Kara,” Lena says. She takes a tiny step back and Kara lets out a breath, able to focus on something besides the flecks of blue in Lena’s eyes or the way her perfume wrapped around the both of them, able to finally wrench her eyes away from the other woman. “And it wasn’t a burden.”

Kara nods, because what else can she do? She’s entirely at Lena’s mercy and finds that she doesn’t actually mind. This is part of what being in love with someone— and actually accepting it— means, doesn’t it? Giving them your heart, knowing that they could hurt it, but hoping that they won’t despite it all?

Lena swallows hard and meets her eyes again. “You wanted to know what I’m angry about. I’m not mad because of what you said, Kara. I’m not angry because you’re in love with me. I’m angry because even after everything, I still couldn’t say it back.”

The world goes out of focus for just a moment as Kara’s eyes go impossibly wide. She wonders if she should ask Alex to check her ears, because it sounded like Lena just said that… 

“Um,” she manages to choke out, wondering if the world had always slowed down when Lena talked or if it was just her. “Lena-”

“I wanted to, Kara. I did. But I’ve never been all that adept at letting people in without also guaranteeing that I would eventually get hurt.” Lena sighs, but leans in closer. “You know, my brother called me a fool for loving you. For letting you so fully into my hurt that it was impossible for you _not_ to leave a scar. Sometimes I wonder if that’s true.”

While Kara doesn’t fully understand what’s happening right now, she doesn’t miss a beat. “Then I’m a fool too,” she says boldly, and maybe it’s a little corny, or stupid, and maybe Lena won’t take it as anything but a hackneyed attempt on Kara’s part to reassure her, but when Lena scoffs, she’s smiling too. “And if being foolish means loving someone like you, then I don’t see what’s so bad about it.”

When she glances down at something other than Lena’s green eyes or her ruby red lips or the small constellations of freckles on her collarbone, Kara realizes that Lena has backed her against the arm of her couch, has lifted her hands up so they’re just barely brushing against Kara’s hips. She isn’t sure if the gesture is to ground her or Lena, but now that she’s noticed, it’s all Kara can feel. Her arms break out in goosebumps, and when she reaches up to adjust her glasses, Lena is closer than ever. 

“You really are extraordinary, you know that?” Lena asks, and Kara wants so badly to run her hands through her hair, to trail her fingers along her jaw, because they haven’t been this close since Kara realized how utterly in love she was with her and quite frankly, this nearness is making her see stars. But she keeps her hands to herself, because although they are in her apartment, this is on Lena’s terms, and Kara is going to let it play out. “You say something like that… and somehow, I actually believe that you mean it.”

“That’s because I do,” Kara says softly. Dimly, she wonders when her voice had gotten so breathy, so quiet. The silence wraps around the both of them like sunlight after a long, cold winter, and Kara wouldn’t leave this moment for anything. “When it’s about someone like you, how could I not?”

Lena closes her eyes, and when she opens them again, they’re impossibly greener than ever before, so enchanting and bright and lovely that Kara’s knees give out just a bit. 

“Do you remember that night we danced at my gala?” she asks, and Kara nods. Nothing, not even death, could make her forget how she felt that night. “Jess told me, after she heard about your funeral, what you did that night. How you had it all planned out, and how you convinced her to go along with it. You learned to waltz for me. No one had ever done something like that for me before. And dancing with you… if I hadn’t known before, I did then.”

“What do you mean?” Kara asks, but her heart is starting to beat faster and faster; she remembers the look in Lena’s eyes that night— and while Kara knows nothing hurts worse than false hope, she’s starting to understand what Lena’s working up the nerve to tell her.

“I wanted to tell you something that night,” Lena whispers, and this time, her hands trail up Kara’s ribcage and wrap themselves around her shoulders. Kara, trying not to collapse on the spot, just swallows against the lump in her throat and takes in every minute detail on Lena’s face. 

“You did?”

“I told you that I was happy. That you made me so unbelievably happy.” Lena captures her gaze. “But there was more to it than just that.”

Kara replays the memory in her head, the way Lena had bit her lip and shook her head and had given her the brightest smile when Kara asked her what was wrong. Nothing was wrong; the both of them knew that. Perhaps Lena had come to understand that night, just as Kara had, that there was something special about the two of them. Something irreplaceable

“Sometimes words fall flat,” Lena murmurs. “How you made me feel wasn’t even something I could say out loud. It scared me, that night, because I knew that once I said it, that would be it.” She smiles despite it all, and it makes Kara want to cry with joy. She’s been so worried that she’d never really get to see Lena smile ever again. “You asked me what I wanted, on the beach. I know now. I’ve never been so sure about anything in my life.”

Kara stammers, feels her eyes fluttering shut and her cheeks going pink under the absolute allure of this woman in front of her. She can barely hear anything anymore past the rushing in her ears, can’t feel anything but the gentle weight of Lena’s wrists against the back of her neck. 

“I’m- I’m glad,” she squeaks out. “You can- you can tell me. If you want to.”

Lena bites her lip, looks up at Kara with teary eyes but in a way that she hasn’t since she found out she was Supergirl. For Kara, it feels like it’s been a lifetime without seeing that kind of warmth in Lena’s eyes, that kind of gentleness on her face. 

“It might be easier if I showed you,” Lena says, and still smiling, brings Kara in for a kiss.

It feels like a fever breaks. It feels like everything breaks, in a beautiful sort of way.

Kissing Lena is perfect. It’s perfect in the way that’s completely imperfect; her lips are dry and chapped for the maybe the first time ever, Lena’s lips are tear-stained and Kara can still taste the lingering tears still steadily falling. She’s so shocked by it that she stumbles back at first, unaccustomed to the intensity at which Lena surges forward. Her ankle rolls, and their teeth click together, and suddenly Kara is falling back into the couch cushions, her side hitting the hard frame of the couch arm and never feeling so vulnerable. She falls gracelessly onto her back, but it doesn’t matter because Lena is falling too, her arms never unwrapping themselves from around Kara’s neck.

Lena lands hard on top of her and Kara gets the air knocked out of air with a wheeze but it doesn’t matter because Lena Luthor is _kissing_ her— and gets right back to it. They tangle together even as one of their feet knocks over a long-abandoned mug of hot cocoa on the coffee table. Kara can hear the cup shatter, knows her table is a mess and her rug might be stained but it still doesn’t matter; Kara’s fingers thread through soft raven hair and another hand wraps around Lena’s waist, pulling her impossibly closer. 

“I love you too,” Lena whispers, her voice coming out trembling and hot against Kara’s skin and even if she already knew that— had known it for years with every smile and soft touch and action Lena had done for her— hearing those words come directly from Lena is enough to knock her over. “So, so much. And while I’m still hurt,” she continues, putting a reassuring hand to Kara’s cheek when she tenses slightly, “And I think we need to have a real discussion about what happened, I won’t let you slip away again. I want this. I want you. Do you?”

Kara brings her close, hugging her hard and beaming against Lena’s neck. She squeezes her eyes shut and tries to capture this moment exactly as is because _this_ is what she’s been looking for. Not a new destiny, or mission, or reason for existence. No. Really, Kara’s always just wanted a chance. And this chance, with Lena, is something she can see herself gladly fighting for— for a very long time, if Lena will let her.

“Yeah, I do,” she answers, whispers it right back. It’s so overwhelming that she accidentally blows a breath of icy air right against Lena’s warm skin and she panics, but Lena just laughs. She chuckles in the quiet, warm way that she used to and threads her fingers through Kara’s hair, bringing her in for another kiss, and this is _exactly_ what Kara wants to fight for. 

“I love you,” Kara says tearfully, pressing kisses against Lena’s lips, her cheeks, her jaw, her hair, her forehead. “That’s never changed, and it never will.”

They’re both smiling softly and somebody— maybe both of them— are crying, and it isn’t how Kara imagined it happening. It isn’t out of a movie. The credits aren’t rolling above their heads, and there is no orchestra swelling in the distance. This isn’t an ending, but a beginning, and Kara had never imagined how spectacular that would feel.

It’s perfect in the way that it’s real. And that is all Kara has ever really wanted.

. . .

_Starlight looks swell on us_

_Let the stars beam from above_

_Who cares if they tell on us!_

_Let people say we're in love!_

It’s relatively quiet when they get together. Not in the way that their lives get any easier— Kara would have liked an easy week back to National City after _actually_ dying, but in the next few months suddenly there are dinosaurs and a few stops missing from the bus route and Kara realizes that the whole worlds colliding bit is going to be a pain in the ass, so no. They are still very much wrapped up in the chaos and surrealness of a world with superheroes. As Kara learns, a world in which Barry Allen and the rest live a hop, skip, and a flight away is not one that’s any more peaceful.

No, it’s quiet in how it all happens. One of them leads, Kara honestly can’t remember which one, and the other follows steadfastly behind.

The trauma doesn’t just go away. Kara’s still coming to terms with the sacrifice she made on top of a lifetime of offering up her body, mind, and soul to protect the world, trying to understand the full ramifications of her decision and where to go from here. She knows she wants to be Supergirl, knows she wants to keep being a hero, knows that she’ll always want to save the people that she can; now, she needs to learn how to do it without forsaking herself along the way. 

Lena has her own demons to wrestle with, years of guilt and shame, and the belief that she would never be good enough to escape her family that carries over into every aspect of her life. There’s lingering hurt between them, heartbreak, and pain that both of them still harbor, but for the first time in forever, Kara can see the light at the end of the tunnel. Kelly gave them both recommendations for therapists in the city, and surprisingly enough, they take her up on it. She and Lena are moving forward together, and that’s what really matters.

Once the emotional intensity from the reunion wears off and Kara finds that Lena still wants to be with her, they make it official. To their surprise, there’s little fanfare; the paparazzi don’t whip into a frenzy like they assumed they would, the gossip rags stay silent, and even their friends just raise an eyebrow and get back to the game of charades they’re playing. Kara lets out the breath she’s been holding and looks around, waiting for someone to do something, but there’s nothing.

She asks Nia if they did something wrong later, when they’re in-between games and most people left the couches to refill their wine glasses. The other girl just laughs, hitting Kara’s shoulder before getting back to gathering up the pieces left over from their first few board games.

“What? Of course not,” Nia says, still grinning and looking at Kara like she still can’t believe she’s here. Everyone has been doing that lately, like they know how close they had come to actually losing Supergirl, how they _did_ lose her, and are trying to soak up her presence while they have it. “It’s silly, actually. I know you never talked to me about it, but Brainy and I kinda thought you guys had been together this whole time.”

Kara’s mouth opens, then shuts again. “ _Brainy_ thought we were together?” Whatever tension she and Lena had, romantic or otherwise, it was still only subtext, something that Brainy has never been adept at reading. It was hard to believe that their pining had been enough to convince their 12th intellect friend. Their friend from the future, not to mention, who probably knows exactly how Kara lives and dies and has had the kindness to remain silent and let her forge ahead on her own. 

(She asked Brainy to do that for her, back when he first arrived, telling him that she didn’t want the expectations of the future to be her responsibility, not when she was already tasked with carrying the past. Brainy being Brainy, agreed immediately, quoting Back to the Future in the process.)

“You know how he is about the affairs of the heart,” Nia says, smiling over at her boyfriend even as she rolls her eyes at him, and Kara bites her cheek. The girl is absolutely smitten. She’s distracted enough that she throws the Monopoly pieces into the Sorry box, but Kara finds the display too endearing to comment. “I can’t say that I blame him this time, though. I’ve been pretty confused these past few months. I assumed Lena had broken up with you.”

“You can’t be serious,” Kara replies, even though when she thinks about it, she can understand where Nia went wrong. She had been acting like a love-stricken idiot, even if she didn’t recognize that love was what it was for quite some time. 

“You should’ve seen the way you two looked at each other,” Nia says, turning her fond brand of exasperation on Kara now. “Honestly, it would be nauseating if I didn’t know how much you had to go through for this to happen.”

Kara blushes and Nia nods, her smile growing, as if Kara’s reaction has confirmed something for her. “And you love her, yeah? This whole time?” Nia asks, even if it’s a question that she already knows the answer to.

Once upon a time, even the insinuation that Nia is making would immediately cause Kara to pull down her shutters, to laugh it off, and deny everything. Once upon a time, Kara would have been terrified to admit the truth to herself, much less have her friends look at her like they know how far gone she is. But now, now that she’s back and alive and so is Lena and they actually have a real shot of making this work, she finds that she doesn’t care for keeping secrets any longer. She doesn’t care that Nia and Alex and Rao, even Cat Grant will all have something to say about her and Lena. She won’t mind if the tradeoff is Lena, to have and to hold, for the rest of her life.

“Yeah. I do.”

Nia’s face softens, and she might even be a little proud when she looks at Kara. “We really weren’t that far off, then. You two have always been inevitable.”

Inevitable isn’t a word that has been kind to her. Krypton’s destruction was deemed inevitable, and so her parents sent her away from everything she’d ever known. And it had been inevitable then that her parents wouldn’t end up being the heroes she’d immortalized them as in her heart. It had been inevitable that Astra would be killed for her sins, and that Mon-El of Daxam would only lead to disappointment, and that Kara would keep on losing the people she tried to protect.

She’d always known that she wouldn’t live forever, that Supergirl couldn’t. She’d embraced that fact as soon as the Monitor chose her. And when she saw the carnage on Barry’s Earth, had seen her friends bloodied and spent in the rubble, she knew that she had to be the one to finish it; she was the only one who could— and if she couldn’t, then she _must_. She’d accepted it much sooner, before the Anti-Monitor, and before Lex Luthor, and before Reign.

Death became inescapable when her planet collapsed into itself before her eyes and she did escape, living on borrowed time. She tried every day to convince herself that she was deserving of her survival, that even if she couldn’t protect Clark, she could protect this planet. As inevitable as her end was, Kara knew that she was also destined to use the time she’s been granted, to be Supergirl, and nothing could prevent her from saving the people she loved.

And she was right. She died, and came back again, because her family needed her. Because Lena had asked her to. Because deep down, no matter how many years they’d danced around it, their feelings for each other were always there. Kara wasn’t about to miss out on the one part of her destiny that she’s been wanting so badly.

“I guess you were right about that,” she says, and if her throat closes up around the realization, Nia has the good grace not to tease her for it.

Not _too_ much, at least.

Nia’s grin turns a little evil. “You’re _whipped_ ,” she whispers, wiggling her eyebrows for emphasis, and while Kara makes a lunge for her, wrapping an arm around the other girl and tickling her until Brainy swoops in to make an awkward, valiant intervention, Kara really isn’t all that upset. 

How can she be upset? This is everything Kara’s ever wanted. She quiets down and leans back against the couch and smiles while Nia and Brainy are tucked into each other now, both still laughing, and Alex is resting her head on Kelly’s shoulder, and James is talking animatedly to J’onn, Clark, and Lois, who stopped by for a visit and Lena… Lena is over in the kitchen next to Alex and Kelly, holding baby Jonathan in her arms. It makes Kara smile even bigger, because this is her _home_ , her _family_. She can take a bit of ribbing at her expense if this kind of love and warmth is what she gets in return.

Lena rejoins her then, still a little shy, Kara still a little nervous. As Kara beams up at her, Lena settles in beside her and hands Jonathan over to Kara, who takes him gladly, still sneaking glances at the woman beside her. She feels like a teenager, fidgeting on the front porch and waiting for a goodnight kiss. In a way, this is the most human Kara’s ever felt about anything— about anyone. This is how it was always supposed to feel, she thinks, the way people felt swathed in technicolor lights in all those musicals she watched to keep herself company.

Kara offers to take Lena home once everyone is full of wine and snacks and have convinced themselves that she’s fine, she’s alive, and she’s happy. Alex tears up again, like she’s done every day since Kara died and reappeared at her door, but Kelly squeezes her hand and Kara hugs her extra tight at the door. Her sister will be alright, even if Kara really scared her this time. Even if she scared everyone this time.

(Kara doesn’t mind when Alex lets a few tears slip into the collar of her shirt. Discreetly, of course. After all, Alex has a reputation to keep, even though there isn’t a person in the room who can’t see past her tough exterior anymore.)

Kara asks Lena if she wants to fly home, and warmth moves through her fingers when Lena says yes; she doesn’t flinch at the way Kara’s toes float off the ground, untethered to gravity, and she doesn’t grow cold when she looks down at the crest on Kara’s chest. 

The stars are out, and the moon is bright enough to reflect on the waves of National City’s harbor. Kara decides to take the long way home. Who can blame her? Spring has finally returned, the lights of the city look stunning out on the water, and she has a beautiful girl in her arms. A woman who, from the way she’s loosely wrapped her arms around Kara’s neck and is gazing at the streets below with shining eyes, doesn’t seem to mind the delay. 

And Rao, is Lena beautiful. It’s not like she hasn’t been aware of the fact before— someone like Lena Luthor can’t be described as anything other than objectively gorgeous— but it’s different now. Now that they belong to each other. Now that Kara can take in her windblown hair and rosy cheeks and bright green eyes and know without a doubt that she’s in love. 

Lena glances up at her then, and Kara knows she’s been caught staring by the smirk growing on Lena’s face, turning up her nose and biting her cheek. She was probably grinning like an idiot too, and Kara’s own cheeks grow red. Her smile only grows, however, and she hurries them home to Lena’s apartment.

They land on the balcony, slowly, with the tips of Lena’s toes touching down first. She must have left her stilettos back at Kara’s place, or else they’d fallen somewhere over the beach, a strange sight for whoever found them in the morning. The stone floor is cold against Lena’s bare skin; Kara can tell in the way her toes curl and she grips a little tighter onto Kara’s arms. 

“Here,” she whispers, letting her own boots land solidly on the ground and motioning for Lena to step up. Even through her suit, Kara knows that she’s warm, and Lena doesn’t complain, stepping readily up, still gripping Kara’s biceps for balance. “Care to dance?” she asks, her lips pressing up against the cold skin of Lena’s neck, and she can feel the rumble as Lena laughs.

“Always.”

They start to sway, Kara in charge of keeping the beat to a song inside her head. She listens to the roar of the cars below, and the wind combing through their hair, and the steady pounding of Lena’s heart, and finds it to be the perfect tune. Lena just follows along, too sated by a pleasant cocktail of drowsiness and alcohol to tease Kara when she misses a step. 

Lena lets out a little hum as Kara starts to slowly spin the two of them. “Just a few more minutes, darling,” she mutters against Kara’s skin, and she doesn’t object. It’s a quiet, warm night, and Kara knows that if Lena would let her, she would stay out here forever.

She kisses Lena again, soft and assured. She doesn’t feel worried anymore that this is all a dream or a trick; this isn’t a Black Mercy fantasy. It’s real. This world that she returned to isn’t perfect— it’s still full of evil, and pain, and problems that Kara knows she can’t fix alone, but that’s what makes it genuine. She’s so hopeful that it feels like she might burst with it; finally, after everything she lost and had to find her way back to, Kara is home. 

And for someone who’s always doubted whether or not she could have it all, she can’t help but feel like so long as Lena is by her side, she does.

Kara knows she is loved, and she knows she loves Lena.

And that is the dearest inevitability of all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> to anyone who reads the notes--
> 
> thank you. thank you, thank you, thank you for sticking with this story for so long. I've been writing this piece for over a year now, and it's a little odd looking back and realizing how much has changed. our world isn't the best right now, I know. but writing this, getting to make myself at home in this world and getting to know these characters so well, it's been an incredible escape for me, and the fact that I kept doing it was all because of you all. every kudos and comment really made my day and put a smile on my face no matter what, and I am so incredibly grateful to you for it. 
> 
> I hope you like this story as a whole and the ending especially. I had that last scene envisioned from the start, and the rest of the story unfurled itself from there. Knowing that in real life we're approaching the final season, all I can hope for is that the real writers of this show approach their characters with genuine care and affection - just like every amazing writer on this site does.
> 
> as for me... I think I'll be sticking around for a while, show ending or not. I've got lots of ideas on the back burner that this fic has given me the confidence to try out, and actually just published another Supercorp fanfic last week. if you enjoyed this, feel free to check it out. otherwise, I have a feeling you may see my username pop up quite a bit in the future. :)
> 
> as always, kudos and comments are appreciated. thank you to every one of you one last time.


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